Demon Hunt
by smashbangfusion
Summary: Unfortunately, I've pulled the plug on this story. I am rewriting it, however, under the title Chasing Demons. If you are interested, check that out. For posterity's sake, the original story will remain. Thanks!
1. Waves, Rocks, and Money

**Demon Hunt: Chapter 1 – Waves, Rocks, and Money**

**Disclaimer:** _Dragon Ball Z_ and its stories, characters, and settings all belong to the respective holders of the rights. This is just a fan-production with a simple goal – fun.

**Hook: **In the years since Son Goku's death at the hands of Cell, the Son Family feels their lives hit the bottom harder than ever. Chi-Chi struggles to provide for her ever studious Gohan and the newborn Goten, but finds it harder every day to keep their heads above water. Unable to sit idly by while his mother faces their monetary issues alone, Gohan takes up the mantle "Demon Jr." and begins competing in martial arts tournaments all across the world in order to earn the money so that the Son Family can make ends meet. But when he is forced to enter a large scale competition to pay for his school tuition, Demon Jr. becomes a world-wide sensation. Many martial artists across the Earth demand Demon Jr. enter the World Martial Arts Tournament. Even more of them demand the warrior remove his mask. One such person is none other than the World Champion's daughter herself – Videl Satan.

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><p><em>A Brief History of the Modern Age of Martial Arts…<em>

After the 23rd World Martial Arts Tournament in Earth Age 756, it was doubtful there would ever be another. Son Goku and the fighter known as "Demon" practically destroyed the tournament grounds and left nothing behind. These doubts were proven true when, three years after the 23rd WMAT, the World Martial Arts Association cancelled the grand event indefinitely rather than hold the 24th competition. It had seemed that "the Golden Age of Martial Arts" had finally ended.

Three years after that, in the Earth Age 762, the Waves and Rocks Multimedia Corporation decided to revive the world's interest in martial arts. Taking the basic idea of the WMAT, the group began the Grand Martial Arts Tournament to determine the most powerful fighter on the planet. This competition was to be held every three years, just like the WMAT but in Orange Star City. Unlike the WMAT, the GMAT introduced a "power-tester" as the preliminary qualifier, where participants would test their strength against the machine with a single punch. This allowed the competition to go underway without much delay to speak of and gave the fans watching at home or in the arena something to talk about (as it was a well-known complaint at the WMAT that the audience could not watch the preliminary matches). Another difference between the WMAT and the GMAT was that the GMAT awarded the victor with a championship belt and one million Zeni – twice as much as the WMAT. Finally, the GMAT allowed television broadcasts and video records of the entire event – something the officials of the WMAT never tolerated. Of course, some martial arts purists believed this reduced the beauty and skill of true martial arts to barbaric displays of brute strength and pop-sensationalism. Nevertheless, the GMAT proved very profitable. The very first winner of the competition and the newly crowned Grand Champion of Martial Arts was none other than Orange Star local Mark "Hercule" Satan, otherwise known as "Hercule," or "Mr. Satan." Mr. Satan won once again in 765, and Waves and Rocks could not be more proud of their star fighter. Waves and Rocks brought to the world what they called, "the Silver Age of Martial Arts."

In 767, Waves and Rocks took it upon themselves to brave the Cell Games alongside their champion Hercule. Their "ZTV" report was watched all across the globe as Hercule Satan claimed victory over the menace Cell and became champion of the Cell Games and savior of the world. In the following year, the 3rd GMAT was held in the newly renamed "Satan City," where Waves and Rocks observed their most successful year ever. Mr. Satan's popularity was so great that people were begging for the return of the WMAT. And, with their great financial success from the GMATs, Hercule's endorsements, and the sales of the "Cell Games Reenactment" digital videos, Waves and Rocks took it upon themselves to bring the fans exactly that.

In 770, the world cheered as Waves and Rocks announced the merge of the GMAT and the WMAT after they purchased the WMAT's original tournament grounds and the name of the competition. After just one year, construction and renovation on the brand new WMAT grounds was complete. The arena was now twice as large as it once was and was surrounded with grand stadium seating, a grand prize of a championship belt and ten million Zeni, and the very first competition was to be held in just one more year. The new WMAT now made use of the "power-tester" preliminary qualifier and allowed use of recording devices and televised broadcasts. In addition to the main tournament, Waves and Rocks announced the beginning of the Junior Division Tournament for the best fighters under 15, where the winner earned a match with the champion and a monetary prize of ten thousand Zeni.

In 771, Hercule Satan won the 24th WMAT as expected, fulfilling his dream to become the true and undisputed world champion of martial arts. It was an event that he had completely dominated and made Waves and Rocks hundreds of millions of Zeni in a single day. An added bonus was that Mr. Satan's very own daughter Videl won the Junior Championship, giving the entertainment conglomerate a new "father-daughter" business angle to tackle. All in all, the new WMAT proved to be more successful than the GMAT ever did. As a result, the GMAT was dissolved later that year.

In 773, Hercule Satan was given his own branch of Waves and Rocks that focused solely on martial arts competitions. Satan Entertainment began a chain of city-wide martial arts competitions in every major city on the planet, an act that essentially absorbed the local small scale tournaments into the Waves and Rocks group. Hercule Satan was making martial arts more popular than ever before, bringing about what enthusiasts were calling "the Modern Age of Martial Arts." Almost every other month there was some competition going on in some city somewhere, and men and women alike were fighting to become more like their hero Mr. Satan. And it is before one such competition when our story begins.

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><p><em>July 15<em>_th__, Age 773. Satan City. Orange Star District Building._

The office of the Orange Star Board of Alumni was daunting, to say the least. It was here that Son Gohan was facing his greatest challenge – an interview for a full scholarship to the highest level secondary school in the world. Orange Star High School was his mother's dream for him, but the sad truth is that the Son Family just couldn't afford the tuition. This scholarship was Gohan's only chance to get into the school of his (mother's) dreams.

In truth, the teen half-Saiyan simply wanted to attend high school. He was 16 and had almost no friends his own age, having been homeschooled his entire life. As he saw it, this was his chance to get away from home and explore the world without his mother constantly doting on his every move. He would get to meet new and interesting people, spend weekends in Satan City with his friends, and _maybe_ have a girlfriend somewhere down the line. _Maybe_.

"Well, Mr. Son…"

This was it – the moment of truth. Will he be facing the next two years back home in his room, or will he facing them in Orange Star High School? Gohan leaned forward slightly, but not too much. Seeming presumptuous or over-anxious was the last thing these esteemed men and women would want to see. And all he could do was hold his breath.

"You have _very _impressive test scores," the chairman stated simply. Gohan exhaled, slightly relieved with the response. In truth, he knew his test scores were excellent. Really, they were perfect – every single one. But the last thing Gohan wanted to seem was proud. If his mother taught him anything about manners (and she taught him a whole damn lot), he must be modest. Not that such a thing ever came with difficulty to Gohan. He was always the most modest young man. He grinned sheepishly and scratched the back of his head in the traditional Son manner.

"But…" Gohan's grin fell. As did his arm. "We'd like to gain an understanding of your family history."

A few beads of sweat formed upon Gohan's now slightly furrowed brow. This was not a question for which he had been ready. Sure, he figured it would come up. But he was never ready to answer it. After a moment of silence, the chairman spoke up once more, "Mr. Son? Would you mind telling us about your family?"

Gohan nodded with a weak smile. "Yes, of course."

"Tell us about your father. From what I understand of your personal essay, it seems that he had a great deal of influence in your life."

"My father…" Gohan began, closing his eyes and picturing the smile and confident stance of the late Son Goku, "…was a simple man. He believed in hard work, doing your personal best and aiming to surpass it every time, and, most of all, he believed in helping others. My father would have given his life for the world. In fact, he did."

"And…um, what exactly did your father _do_?"

"He was a martial artist."

This simple response seemed to stir both some interest and skepticism in the Board of Alumni. "I'm sorry, but I fail to see how a…err…prize fighter can contribute much to the world."

"Did a martial artist not save us all from the menace known as Cell six years ago?" asked Gohan. There was not a hint of bitterness or sarcasm in his voice. He was simply asking a question. A martial artist did defeat Cell and save the world. _He did. _Of course, this fact will forever remain buried. The boy's response, however, garnered some positive reaction from a few of the alumni. The chairman opened his mouth to speak again.

"Ah, yes…I apologize. Would your father happen to be a fighter of whom we may have heard?"

"Son Goku."

The board fell silent for a moment. Gohan eyed them carefully for their reaction. It was well-known that Son Goku was the winner of the WMAT before Waves and Rocks turned it into what it is today. It was also well-known that Son Goku and Demon (better known by Gohan and the gang as Piccolo) were responsible for ending the WMAT due to their battle destroying…everything. And it was most well-known that Son Goku was badmouthed by Hercule Satan every time the name was brought up during an interview. Martial arts purists believed Son Goku was the greatest fighter to ever walk the planet, but Hercule Satan had convinced the masses that Gohan's father was nothing more than a cheating trickster. If there were any reason to bear any ill-will towards Hercule, that reason would be the only one. Gohan never cared that Hercule took credit for killing Cell. The man did an excellent job playing the hero and bringing the world back to normalcy, and Gohan had no desire to live in the spotlight. But Hercule was consistently destroying his father's reputation, tarnishing his memory. _That_ was unforgivable.

The chairman couldn't help but smirk. "Oh…" he said. "I thought you said your father was a martial artist." And the rest of the board fell into a fit of laughter. It took all of Gohan's willpower not to just stand up and walk away because the fact remains that he _needed_ this opportunity. He _needed _this scholarship.

"I…don't believe this is professional conduct…sir."

"I...I'm sorry…!" the chairman gasped between roaring laughter. After composing himself, he continued. "But Son Goku is no martial artist. Mr. Satan says so himself."

Gohan's fists tightened. They were clenched so strongly that it was a wonder he was not breaking the skin of his palms or tearing his own knuckles. The Son boy took a deep breath to calm his anger and frustration. "What Mr. Satan says about my father," Gohan almost hissed behind the grinding of his teeth, "…makes no difference to me." Gohan took another deep breath. "My father was a good man. He died protecting me from Cell. And just because Mr. Satan refuses to believe in what he can't understand, doesn't mean my father was any less of a fighter."

"Are you suggesting the World Champion of Martial Arts doesn't understand the very thing for which he is known, Mr. Son? That he doesn't understand _fighting_? I find your lack of respect for the man who saved the world highly discouraging."

They were too focused on Mr. Satan that they completely missed that Gohan twice told them his father had died. But it was fine – Gohan didn't need their condolences. And he certainly didn't need to hear them insult his father any longer. And with that, Gohan stood up. The sudden force of his powerful half-Saiyan legs knocked over the chair below him. This interview was over.

"Thank you, for your time," the boy said. And he walked out, leaving each of the alumni dumbstruck at how a potential student with perfect entrance exams would abandon an opportunity such as this. Gohan would have thought of something particularly bitter to say as he left, such as, _"Why don't you just give _Hercule_ the scholarship if he's so damn great?"_ but ultimately decided against it. His mother did not teach him to be so rude, even when others were clearly conducting themselves in such a manner to him. Besides, whatever they said about his father, he knew they were wrong. Son Goku was a great man – an irreplaceable man. His main concern right now was how Chi-Chi would react to all of this.

"Geez…Should I just be honest?" he asked no one in particular, staring up at the clear blue skies of Satan City with his arms folded behind his head. Surely his mother would understand how he could not stand being in the room with those…people after what they were saying about his father. _'If I'm lucky…maybe I'll only get a few hits to the head with the frying pan.'_

The dark-haired youth let out an exasperated sigh. He wouldn't be able to go to high school like this. His mother wouldn't accept anything less than Orange Star. And he couldn't rely on Bulma to pay for tuition…it wouldn't be right to put such a burden on her even if they were old family friends. He was going to have to figure this one out on his own. In the meantime, his mother wasn't expecting him to be home for another hour or so. With nothing better to do, the teen half-Saiyan decided it would be best to wander the city.

Gohan watched the busy streets of Satan City in all its glorious hustle and bustle. People were screaming at each other from the traffic-filled streets, horns honking loudly and tempers rising quickly. The sidewalks were littered with men and women heading someplace somewhere, checking their phones for that special email or text message, calling their loved ones to wish them a good day wherever they are. It was teeming with life. Perhaps it was not the kind of life he was used to seeing in the lush green forests of Mt. Paozu, but there was a life here regardless. It was new, exciting, and…and it was terrible knowing he will probably never get to explore this kind of busy lifestyle. He didn't mind living in the mountains. He loved the peace, the quiet, the open world beyond his doorstep. But he yearned to explore the new. And this was new. This needed to be explored.

As Gohan made his way down the steps of the Orange Star District Building, he checked his reflection in the nearby window. He was a fairly tall boy – 5'9" and still very slowly growing. Gohan remembered his mother telling him how he looked so handsome in his clean shirt and tie, serious slacks, and business shoes. He had dressed up for this interview so nicely; it was a shame what had happened in there. He entertained the idea of apologizing for a second, but shook his head immediately. There was no way he was going to apologize for what _they_ said about his father. And he was sure it wouldn't have made a difference to the Board of Alumni anyhow. The teen patted his neatly combed hair for a quick second. His mother even tamed his wild hair for this occasion. He did his best to ruffle it up until it became the unique mess of surprisingly soft spikes it usually is. Satisfied, the young man continued toward the busy city streets.

The boy soon found himself drawn to one of the larger dome buildings of the area – the Satan City Fighter Hall. It was where the city's local fighting competitions and events often took place. _'Now, there's an idea…'_ Gohan thought. _'I could fight for the money…' _

Gohan hoped not to turn to such an act, but he felt he had no choice. Before Waves and Rocks was buying up every martial arts competition it could find and hand over to Hercule, the half-Saiyan competed in small-scale tournaments under the guise of "Demon Jr." in order to get the money to feed his family for the month. After all, Goku's money from the 23rd WMAT could only last the Son Family so long after Goku died. Pretty soon Gohan had saved enough money so that Chi-Chi was not worrying about making ends meet so much anymore. She disapproved of Gohan leaving behind his studies to fight, but quietly understood that he was doing what he can to take care of both her and the baby Goten. But with Waves and Rocks buying out any and every martial arts competition and turning each one into highly publicized events on their own, Gohan was eventually forced to give up the mantle of Demon Jr. for good, or so he thought. These new circumstances left him thinking otherwise. It was no secret that he could easily win whatever tournaments were being held on the planet, but he wondered if he should risk being unmasked and discovered by fighting in such a relatively large-scale tournament. Gohan turned to a man taking a picture of the dome with his family.

"Excuse me, sir, but would you happen to know when the next big tournament is coming up?" he asked politely.

Smiling kindly, the man pointed up at the large sign announcing the anticipated Satan City Championship Tournament. "The Satan City Tournament is coming up next weekend! I can't wait!" he exclaimed with a bit of a hearty laugh.

Gohan smiled and nodded. "Thank you." He turned back to the doors of the fighting hall. _'A little more high-profile than I was hoping, but that just means it'll be better money…And besides…'_ He turned back to the city, balled hands on his hips, and took a deep breath. "Ah…" he exhaled, taking in the sights. A grin tugged the sides of his lips, giving him an air of what one may even dare to say could be cheekiness.

'_I think this is definitely worth the risk.'_

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><p><strong>The Writer's Block:<strong>

_Hello! Unlike my other projects, this project will not be following a regular update schedule. You see, this one has no projected ending – rather I wanted to come up with an idea and roll with it instead of plan the whole thing out from beginning to end. It started with a simple question; how did the Son Family live the seven years after the Cell Games without any obvious source of income? Chi-Chi had to take care of Gohan and Goten and clearly didn't have a job, Gohan was a kid, and Goten was a baby. Goku's 500,000 Zeni prize from the WMAT would only last them for so long, and, while they are perfectly capable of living off the land, the Son Family undeniably enjoys at least some modern comforts within their home. So, in this story, Gohan secretly competes in small martial arts tournaments across the world under the name "Demon Jr." in honor of Piccolo (and because he's hiding his identity the best way he knows how) and slowly earns the money to keep his family above water. Now, Gohan is forced to take up the "Demon Jr." name once more in order to earn the money to cover his tuition and attend Orange Star High School._

_Also, why did I introduce the Waves and Rocks Multimedia Corporation? It's because the commercialization of martial arts changed the world a lot in _Dragon Ball Z_ thanks to Hercule becoming so popular. I had to wonder both why the WMAT had stopped for a while after Goku and Piccolo blew up the ring, and why it changed so much at the 25__th__ WMAT just before the Buu Saga. So I went with mass commercialization. A big powerful group sets up a popular fighting competition, and then has the money to buy the name and tournament grounds of the prestigious WMAT. Deals like that make somebody somewhere the beaucoup bucks._

_Anyway, thanks for reading this first chapter! I hope you enjoyed it. Please feel free to write me a review!_

_~smashbangfusion_


	2. Liars, Bank Robbers, and Demons

**Demon Hunt: Chapter 2 – Liars, Bank Robbers, and Demons**

_July 15__th__, Age 773. Mt. Paozu. Son Family Home._

As Gohan opened the door to the Son Family Home, he could not help but overhear his mother in the kitchen. She was clearly engaged in an important conversation, seeing as she did not notice her eldest walk into the house. Goten was taking a nap in Gohan's bed – an observation that made the teen half-Saiyan smile a bit. _'Cute, squirt. Real cute,'_ he thought as he quietly shut the door to his room so as not to disturb the sleeping five-year-old.

"…I know, Dad. I'm glad to hear the kingdom is back on its feet," spoke Chi-Chi over the phone. Gohan naturally felt drawn toward the conversation, considering his grandfather, Ox-King Mammaro, was one of his "last resorts" for getting into Orange Star. The Ox-Kingdom was known for its historic violence and aggressive stance in the world's politics, so Orange Star wouldn't take Gohan up on the name of the Ox-King alone. No, such a thing would be too damaging for the Orange Star reputation. But the kingdom had money…or, at least, it _used_ to have money. Though, if his mother's conversation were any indication of the former, perhaps Gohan wouldn't have to risk the Satan City Championship Tournament after all. Gohan used his spirit energy to enhance his senses just so that he may hear what his grandfather was saying on the other end of the line through the receiver.

"…These past few years have been hard for us, Chi-Chi," said the Ox-King, solemnity evident in his speech. It was no secret that the Ox Kingdom had fallen on hard times. While the terror of Gero's cyborgs ended without too much destruction, the Cell Massacres warranted a hefty price for rebuilding many places in the world. The Ox Kingdom on Mt. Frypan was one such place. "We're not quite on our feet yet, but we're getting there. I have to say thank you, sweetie. And I'm sorry we…I'm sorry _I_ couldn't have been there for you after Goku died."

"Please don't say it like that," Chi-Chi replied, holding the handset ever so delicately with both of her hands. "I get it. I know why we had to leave. My boys were eating the entire kingdom away. Literally." She added this last part with a somewhat sheepish grin.

Gohan had almost forgotten about that. After Goku's death, Chi-Chi believed it would be good for the Son Family to spend time in her homeland of Mt. Frypan with her father. It was such a rare occasion that the Son Family visited the Ox-King that Gohan's grandfather simply had to hold a feast to celebrate their presence. The kingdom was already under stress due to the reconstruction, and it didn't help that they were now feeding two half-Saiyans with the combined appetite of the entire population of the Ox-King's castle twice over. It wasn't too long before the king was forced to send his own beloved family away for the sake of maintaining peace and order in the kingdom. The welcome of the Son Family by the citizens of the Ox Kingdom lasted a grand total of three days.

The Ox-King sighed. "Chi-Chi, I'd love to help Gohan pay for his school, but I'm afraid the kingdom won't allow me to spend so much on my family anymore…at least not until we're where we need to be to feel secure."

Gohan's heart dropped. At that point he stopped listening to his grandfather and leaned back against the wall with a quiet sigh of frustration. He slid his back down the wall until his bottom touched the floor and his knees were almost level with his chest. Gohan slowly, but firmly massaged his temples with his fingers. _'There goes that option…Only thing I can do now is enter the tournament…'_

"No, I understand, Daddy. I really do. And I'm not going to hold it against you. To your people, you have to be a king first and a father second. And we all still love you, no matter what. Don't…don't worry about it, okay? We'll figure something out. We always do." Chi-Chi paused before for a moment, whispering, "I love you," once more into the transmitter before hanging up the phone. She turned to face Gohan, who was entering the kitchen as respectfully quiet as he could manage. "Please tell me you have good news," she said to her eldest son with a clearly tired look on her face.

Gohan stopped and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath so that he may think about what he would say. He also had to close his eyes to avoid looking at his mother's face. He hated seeing that look on his mother's face. It was a look of desperation – one that no son would ever wish to see on his mother. She was wishing for a miracle. He owed it to her to grasp that miracle with both hands and hold on as tightly as mortally possible. With a smile, beaming with false confidence, Gohan looked his mother straight in the eyes and told her, "You don't have to worry about the money for school, Mom."

"Does that mean…? Oh, Gohan!" cried Chi-Chi, hugging her son with all the strength she could possibly muster. "I'm so proud of you!"

Gohan returned the embrace before placing his hands on her shoulders and gently pushing her to arms distance so as to look her directly in her eyes once more. With a wide grin, he said, "I'm going back into the city next weekend for what they're calling the final round of interviews. But they told me that it's just meeting with the Board of Alumni again to congratulate me properly." It was a lie. Gohan was normally a terrible liar, but he had to do this. He had to believe this. He spent the last hour in the city and the twenty minutes heading back home practicing the lie over and over again out loud and in his head until it felt like he really _was_ called back by the Board of Alumni for his scholarship. Thankfully, his efforts today finally paid off in some way. His mother, at least, was spared the worry over her son's education.

His mother buried her face into her son's chest, quietly sobbing with joy and relief.

"Gohan, I'm so proud of you…"

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><p><em>July 24<em>_th__, Age 773.  
><em>

Gohan left the house with conflicting feelings of immense satisfaction and horrible guilt. His mother believed he was heading off to the city for the final interview, and, in her joy, she whipped up Gohan's absolute favorite breakfast before he left this morning. _'And…I lied to her to get it…'_ he thought, cursing himself for his deception. He had already admitted to himself that his brief moment of dishonesty had been necessary, but that didn't mean he had to like it. Gohan hoped he would never have to do such a thing to his mother again. She didn't deserve it.

The Son boy was wearing his most feature-hiding clothes for this day. Gohan initially left the house in very serious clothes similar to what he had worn during his interview, of course, but he made a quick stop in the middle of the forest to change into the items in his backpack – a charcoal hooded jacket, a West City Titans baseball cap, a pair of dark blue jeans, and some black and white canvas sneakers. He pulled the bill of the cap low over his face and brought the hood up over it. While Gohan didn't relish the idea of looking like such a delinquent (oh, how his mother would weep at his very sight), the Son boy knew he couldn't just walk around Satan City in his Demon Jr. clothes, or arrive at the tournament registration in his interview suit.

Gohan carefully folded his nice clothes and put them away in his bag. _'Sure hope these don't get wrinkled…'_ he thought, as he slung the bag over his shoulder and took flight once more. There was half an hour until the registration closed. He could get to the city and find a hidden spot to land in under ten minutes. With that in mind, he took off the cap and gripped it tightly in his hand, blasting toward the city at full speed.

* * *

><p><em>Just outside the Satan City Financial District<em>…

As he had predicted, the trip only took ten minutes. Everyone seemed to be gathered at the Fighter Hall for the day, so the Son boy believed it would be smarter to land a fair distance from it. Gohan quickly placed the cap back on his head and landed discreetly in an alleyway by the uncharacteristically empty financial district. He had thought that, perhaps, everyone was headed for the big competition. As he stepped out, however, he realized the true reason why the streets were so clear. Gohan heard gunfire in the distance. _'Sounds like trouble…Dad would want me to take care of it…'_ he thought to himself as he tightened the cap on his head and pulled his hood over. _'People could get hurt.'_

Gohan dashed toward the rapid, yet metronomic pulses of machine fire, where a couple of Satan City police officers were pinned down behind their vehicles in front of the Satan City Bank. He hugged the corner of a nearby building to avoid being seen, and the dark haired teen assessed the situation as calmly and quickly as he could. _'If I rush in, they're sure to panic and someone will get hurt…Hm. Know your enemy…as Mr. Piccolo would always say…'_ The two bank robbers were in possession of automatic weapons. They didn't seem interested in killing any police officers, only holding them off. And in between magazines…_'They keep glancing to the left…'_ Gohan observed.

He followed their eyes to a small truck coming down the road with great haste. The driver possessed a manic look – one that would surely cause problems if he entered the area and performed his duties as a getaway man. _'This guy isn't the type to swerve if a child were standing on the road…'_ Gohan thought with a deep frown. Deciding he knew enough of the situation to end it cleanly, the teen half-Saiyan saw that it would be a good time to jump in. _'Seventeen minutes until registration…This shouldn't take more than two.'_

Gohan carefully aimed two weak energy blasts to the front wheels of the truck, each with just enough power to blow them clean off. The truck's grill scraped along the road until it reached a slow and gradual stop in between the police and the bank robbers. The driver, unsure of what had just happened, stumbled out of the vehicle after grabbing a pistol and regrouped with his companions. Without missing a beat, Gohan sprung into action. He had taken the opportunity provided by the truck's distraction to flank the enemy from the right. In their panicked state of mind, two of the three robbers did not notice Gohan sneak up on them. Gohan swiftly kicked one man in the ribs, careful to bruise and not kill. The force of the blow instantly left the man on the ground and incapacitated. Before the other man could react, the teen drove his elbow into the criminal's abdomen, making him double over in pain and fall into a fetal position while clutching his stomach. The third and final bank robber, the driver, pointed his pistol at Gohan.

"You're gonna regret playing 'hero,' punk!"

Time seemed to slow down for Gohan as he expanded his energy sensing ability to feel for any innocent people who would be harmed by stray gunfire. _'No one behind me. And the only ones watching are the police. Good. I won't have to freak anyone out by catching bullets. Wouldn't want to leave behind fingerprints on the bullets, anyway.'_

The man fired three times before Gohan was inches in front of him. Each shot seemed to fly in slow motion for the young warrior as he wove his way in and out of each bullet's path, shortening the distance between himself and the gunman with each loud crack of the pistol. Before the villain could scream, Gohan pit his knee into the man's sternum, aided with a small hop to further close the distance. The driver was unconscious before he had known what hit him. Gohan took a quick look about the area, noting that everything seemed to be taken care of and the police could handle the situation from here. He glanced at his watch.

"Fifteen minutes…" he said quietly. He adjusted his hat and ran away from the scene of the crime before any of the police can stop him for congratulations, thanks, or any sort of questioning.

* * *

><p>Just as Gohan left, a jet-copter arrived at the scene. One of the police officers held his radio up to his mouth.<p>

"Yeah…she's here. Don't worry, though. Some other guy took care of the situation...No; he didn't have a badge…Yeah. I'm going to talk to her." The officer waved down the jet-copter pilot, pointing her to a clear part of the road where she may land safely. The pilot nodded her head in acknowledgement of the officer's assistance and slowly hovered to the impromptu landing zone. The police officers all ran toward the grounded jet-copter, with the more vocal one calling out the pilot's name. "Videl!"

Out from the pilot's seat stepped a rather small young woman no older than Gohan. Her long black hair was bound in two small pigtails that brushed over her shoulders, and her bangs created a frame to her face that emphasized her piercing blue eyes. She wore on her face a glare that was clearly ready to strike fear into the hearts of evildoers, but, to her dismay, there was not a single conscious criminal in sight. Well, she wasn't terribly disappointed. She saw a couple of uniforms putting the bank robbers in handcuffs and couldn't help but smirk.

"Good to see your men at work," she commented to the officer who greeted her. The policeman, however, was not smiling.

"Videl, if you're going to send one of your father's students to help us out, you need to clear it with the chief first," he said with a frown. This accusation surprised Videl.

"What are you talking about? I would never do something that stupid!" she claimed, indignation rising with her voice. Videl would never consider sending someone from the Satan School of Martial Arts or the Satan Gym to do _her_ police work. She wouldn't entrust such a dangerous position to anyone but herself. "You know me, Officer Needles. I'm not the kind to pass over my responsibilities."

"Well, I got to tell you, Videl. That kid was fighting like something I have never seen. Except for your dad, I don't think I've seen anyone that strong!" replied Needles, before quickly adding, "And you, of course." He continued, "He was avoiding bullets like they were playing a game of dodgeball...at point blank range!" This officer was clearly impressed. And yet, this mystery hero troubled him. He pointed to the wrecked truck on the road. "But he's dangerous. I think he used some sort of gun to blow off the wheels of this truck."

Videl took a brief look at the vehicle before turning to back to the officer. "People who use the Satan Style don't use guns," she said simply. She pulled out a notepad and asked Needles to describe whoever it was who stopped the bank robbers. "I'm going to find this guy and bring him in for questioning. You know where he went?" she asked, not looking up from her notes. _'Tall, dark hoodie, Titans baseball cap.'_

Needles nodded, and pointed down the road this dark fighter used to escape from the scene. "If he's strong, maybe you can find him at the Fighter Hall. He might be competing today."

Without wasting another word, Videl hopped back into her jet-copter and started the engines. She waited a bit for the area to clear before taking off. As soon as she got her jet-copter a few feet into the air, she took a look at Needles and mouthed one word. "Thanks."

* * *

><p><em>Satan City Fighter Hall.<em>

'_Two minutes until registration closes. No one else in line…This is great!'_

Gohan walked up to the registration desk with a somewhat brisk pace. The clerk asked for his name and his registration fee, as well as a signed waiver that guaranteed he would not sue Waves and Rocks or its Satan Entertainment branch for any injuries sustained during the competition. From his bag, Gohan produced a small stack of bills totaling the required 1,000 Zeni entrance fee for a fighter.

"Yes, and your name, mister…"

"Demon Jr."

* * *

><p><strong>The Writer's Block:<strong>

_Hello, again! So first thing off "The Writer's Block" is this: I want to thank all of you who added this story to your favorites or put it on your watch list, all of you who wrote a review, and mostly all of you who took some time out of your day to read and give this story a chance! _

_Things I'm excited about this chapter? One: Action! Two: Videl makes her first appearance! Let me know how it went over with you people reading!_

_I'm updating today because, as it turns out, my course instructor had certain business to handle. It gave me the time to not worry about my school projects for the moment, and this story has just so much potential that I am bursting with ideas and creative energy. Just…don't expect this to happen too often. Hey, with any luck, the instructor will be called to handle said business full-time, and I'll have more free time! Fingers crossed!_

_Last time, __**strangebloke **__addressed in the reviews that Chi-Chi is royalty and, of course, the daughter of the Ox-King. I give my thanks to you, strangebloke, for pointing this out. It had slipped my mind and, while it seems like sort of an insignificant detail in the grand scheme of the story, the financial status of the Son Family plays a great deal in Gohan's motivations for these beginning chapters. With that in mind, I'm using this chapter to correct the problem. I can't help but feel it's not the strongest band-aid for my mistake, but I hope it is enough to satisfy the readers._

_One thing I think people may ask about in this chapter is why Gohan went to such great lengths to disguise himself before the registration rather than simply turning Super Saiyan. The thing is that the gang notices when someone's power spikes, and transforming would most definitely cause a power spike. Usually, Gohan's power doesn't spike so much because he isn't the type to train during these times of peace, so someone would be bound to investigate such an oddity. Knowing the gang, the most likely to investigate Gohan's energy spike would be Piccolo, given their relationship. And then, guess what? Piccolo tells Dende, then Dende tells Krillin, then Krillin tells Yamcha, then Yamcha tells Bulma, then Vegeta overhears how Kakarot's brat is fighting again and leaves to challenge Gohan to a fight, then Bulma tells Chi-Chi, and then Chi-Chi knows everything and whips out the frying pan. As you can see, Gohan has a lot to lose by transforming. At least, that's how I justify my writing. So, wanting to keep on the down-low as much as possible, Gohan would find it easier to keep his energy levels where they are and just put together a disguise from the clothes in his room._

_On another note, I notice many writers making the Ox-King's personal name Gyu Mao or Gyumao. I happen to think it's funny that people like to make the Ox-King's name literally "Ox-King." With that in mind, I decided to make his personal name something that fits with Chi-Chi's theme on "breasts" while still giving him that large and intimidating presence that only the name Ox-King could inspire. And so we have "Mammaro." Maybe it's just because I made the name up, but I like it. Let me know what you think, if you find it pertinent to tell me so!_

_One other thing in this chapter I think I would like to talk about is Goten's age. So, the Cell Games took place around May of Age 767. Goten was conceived just before the Cell Games. That means he wouldn't be born until around January or February of Age 768 (unless half-Saiyans just get pushed out faster than Earthling babies...Although, that would make sense, given that Saiyans are bred for combat so their females wouldn't do well to be pregnant all the time. But I digress). So it would have been impossible for Goten to have been seven by the time of the Buu Saga (which took place in May of Age 774)! He would have been six, I say! And so, Goten is five here in Age 773 because of it. Not that it's too important or anything. Just one of those things I wonder about._

_Final comments before I sign off? Um…__**Sivasas**__ commented that Gohan's characterization was done well, I think. Thanks! One of the main influences for the way I'm writing Gohan is the early _Amazing Spider-Man_ comic books. Gohan is a really unique character because, like Peter Parker, he's a teenager with these extraordinary abilities and great responsibilities to his family and the world that he just has to fulfill. And he needs to prove to himself every day that he can fulfill them. You can see how that kind of pressure can weigh down on a person. It's one of those things I hope to convey in my writing! Let me know if I'm doing a good job!_

_Thanks for continuing this story with me! As always, I highly encourage writing reviews. I think this story has some real potential, and if you ever feel like I'm dangerously approaching a point where I'm wasting its potential, don't hesitate to call me out on it in your review!_

_~smashbangfusion_


	3. The Invincible Style

**Demon Hunt: Chapter 3 – Heavy Hitters, Big Winners, and the Invincible Style**

_July 24__th__, Age 773. Satan City Fighter Hall._

'_If I left the bank almost right after he did, I should have beaten him to the Fighter Hall…'_ thought Videl as she recognized the iconic dome of the city's competition venue. _'After all, I have one of the fastest jet-copter models available today. There's no way he could possibly get there before me,' _she reasoned. And yet, Videl continued to mull over what Needles told her until the jet-copter was mere minutes from the hall. _'The man was good enough to dodge bullets. Even the stupidest moron wouldn't try that. So he must be smart. And if he's smart, I'm willing to bet he'd be resourceful enough to get across the city in a few minutes, right?'_ She could think of a number of ways: grand theft auto, taking a bike and weaving through traffic and alleyways, or perhaps the guy had a jet-copter of his own. Not one to take any sort of risks when it comes to her quarry, she contacted the manager of the Fighter Hall to open up an area near the entrance for her to land.

"This is Videl. I'm landing in a short moment. Have a security team clear the way near the front doors for an LZ large enough for my jet-copter to touch down before I get there."

The raven-haired youth waited for confirmation on the other end of the line before ending the call. She wasn't going to park down the street or in the lot, nor was she willing to land on the roof and work her way down. Sometimes, being a beloved local crime-fighter and daughter of a world icon really did have its perks. One, for example, is that people are always willing to listen. Although, whether or not she always wants them listening was a different matter entirely.

'_Tall, dark hoodie, Titans baseball cap,'_ she reminded herself as she neared her rushed landing zone.

People were, without a doubt, upset that the entrance was being cleared and blocked off, but when Videl Satan's personal jet-copter arrived at the scene, all previous notions of riotous action were forgotten as men, women, and children cheered for their favorite hometown hero the moment she stepped off the vehicle. There were whispers suggesting that she would be taking part in the competition, further exciting the crowd. While that would surely be a sight to see and a treat for anyone in the audience watching, Videl was no longer interested in city competitions. She was too busy training for the big leagues. Her goal was the tournament this coming May. Her goal was the 25th World Martial Arts Tournament.

"Hello, Miss Videl!" greeted the excited desk clerk. She waved Videl over to the desk, and asked, "Are you hoping to register for the tournament? Registration has just about closed, but I think the officials are willing to make an exception for you!"

"No, thanks," answered Videl. She crossed her arms over her chest, giving the small crime-fighter an air of seriousness. "I'm looking for a guy. Tall. Dark hoodie. Titans baseball cap. Have you seen him?"

The desk clerk initially shook her head, leaving a slightly annoyed Videl, but then realized that she had just processed such a person almost ten minutes ago. But she registered many people already, so every entrant sort of blurred together. "I apologize for my forgetfulness, Miss Videl. Someone like that had just registered for the competition under the name 'Demon Jr.'," she informed the raven-haired teen. Videl checked the registration form on the top of the stack, confirming that someone had indeed registered under that name earlier. "You just missed him. If you want, I can call security to bring him to you. Or…do you wish to apprehend him yourself?"

Videl thought about it for a second, but ultimately decided she was much more interested in seeing what this guy can do before she arrests him. She recalled how Needles believed this guy to be an extremely powerful fighter, and that tickled her competitive nature. _'If he's dangerous like Officer Needles said, then I'll just watch him all the more carefully. If he looks like a threat to the people around him, I'm sure I can step in before anyone gets seriously hurt. And, besides, by the end of this tournament, he'll be too tired to get away from me!' _she thought, confidence pulling her lips into a smirk.

"You don't need to call security. Just get me a good seat," she said to the clerk, leaning on and over the desk with her elbow and impatiently tapping her fingers. She glanced over toward the doors and saw that people were no longer excited about her unannounced appearance and they were clamoring to get inside. "Oh and…tell security to start letting people in again. They're looking antsy out there."

* * *

><p><em>Satan City Fighter Hall. Contestant Locker Rooms.<em>

The locker room was surprisingly empty, save for a single person who had just finished changing. Gohan examined himself in the small mirror in the locker the tournament officials lend out to their fighters. He was wearing a dark purple gi bearing the symbol for "Demon" on its left breast and on its back, wrapped with a light blue, almost turquoise, belt. On his head he wore a heavy weighted turban exactly like the one his mentor Piccolo wore during training that perfectly hid his crop of spikes from the eyes of the world.

'_It feels like I've been wearing the same outfit since I was a kid!'_ the half-Saiyan thought, almost jokingly. He completed the ensemble by putting on the pointed boots typical of a Namekian and pulled the white Namekian ruff up over his face and tightened it, forming a makeshift mask. Only his eyes were visible on his face – an observation that left him satisfied with his disguise and ready to make his way to the arena. He locked up his bag, careful to make sure none of the clothes inside were too badly wrinkled from any mishandling during his heroic actions earlier.

He stepped out onto the large competition floor. Like any competition held by Waves and Rocks, the Satan City Tournament featured a punch-machine. Gohan inwardly groaned, knowing exactly what these abominations were doing to competitive martial arts.

'_All right…'_ he thought, glancing around the area. _'Don't want to be too impressive. I just want to make sure I get a spot. And I can't make it look too easy either. Geez, these things are difficult.'_

Just as Gohan was trying to figure out a way to secure his spot without standing out too much, one of the Fighter Hall staff approached him. He asked the masked fighter who he is, and upon learning that this "Demon Jr." is the last person registered and just about ready to be put to the power test, the staff member led Gohan into the line.

It was a short queue – only five people ahead of Gohan for the test. Gohan glanced up at the score card on the jumbo television screen up above, revealing the punch-scores of the 143 people who signed up for the tournament. _'The average score seems to be about 70…'_ he observed, as he shifted his gaze to the large group of muscle-head martial artists on the other side of the room, eagerly awaiting the completion of the preliminaries. Only the top 16 are allowed to compete, according to the rules. _'The highest here is 94…I just have to seek out the power of whoever happens to be the strongest in this arena and match that level.'_

Such a task, it seemed, was easier said than done. Gohan tuned his senses to the other fighters, only to find their power levels to be so insignificant and easily comparable to that of an untrained human that it was difficult to filter them out. One power, however, seemed to stand out a little more than the rest.

'_That's it!' _Gohan thought as he moved up in the line. Only three people were left ahead of him. He had to adjust his strength quickly. _'This power is good. Must belong to the one who scored the '94.' But why is it…standing in the audience?'_

Shrugging his last question off and wasting no more time, Gohan concentrated on the energy signature and suppressed his power until it was exactly even with the target. _'This is…exhausting! It's easier to suppress my power to nothing than to hold it at this level…' _Gohan thought, struggling to move up in the line _and _keep up the concentration on his power level. He was up next, and sweat was already forming on his brow. Luckily, the turban kept most of that away. _'All right…here goes nothing. Or…as close to nothing as I can get, anyway.'_

Gohan stepped before the punch machine, staring down the cushiony red target. He kept repeating in his mind, _'Concentrate…Concentrate…'_ as he lowered himself into Piccolo's Demon Stance. The half-Saiyan took a deep breath, once again reminding himself to concentrate on his power level, before silently letting loose his fist upon the contraption.

"115!" the tournament official called, adding the score to the screen.

The crowd gasped in excitement, and some of the contestants' mouths stupidly hung ajar in amazement. How could such a skinny looking man get a higher score than the heavy hitters of the Satan Gym? Gohan rubbed the back of his turban in a vain attempt to scratch his head. _'That was weird…'_ he thought, expecting to get a "94" or close. _'Was I not as focused as I should have been?'_

At the same time, Videl Satan watched from her seat as the "115" was added to the name "Demon Jr." and she couldn't help but grin with interest. _'So I guess Officer Needles wasn't mistaken when he said the guy was strong…That's the exact same score I got the last time I tested myself,'_ she thought, crossing her arms over her chest. She guessed the force must have come from his the speed of the blow more than his actual muscle strength, given that he was far less bulky and hulking than the men who achieved the other high scores. _'So he'd probably fight somewhat like me.' _To ease some of the competitive tension she was feeling, the Satan girl began biting at her lower lip. _'This'll get interesting.'_

"Incredible!" the announcer called out to the crowd. "Demon Jr. has just hit a '115!' That puts him at the top of the board! And with that, we have our 16 contestants for the main event! We'll be ready in just ten minutes, so be sure to buy your snacks while you can!"

As people began filing out of their stadium seats and headed out to the concession stands, the announcer approached the sixteen fighters. "We'll be drawing lots to determine the matches; just like the World Tourney," the announcer explained, gesturing toward a small lottery box the tournament officials brought forward. "Now, before we begin, allow me to explain the rules.

"Each fight will be between two combatants. The fight is over when someone forfeits, falls out of bounds, or remains on the floor untouched for more than ten seconds. Holding an opponent down through grappling or stepping on the body will not count. If a fight reaches the ten minute time limit, the decision goes to the judges. Judges only count points for clean hits. Blows below the belt will not be counted. Are there any questions? No? Then line up for your number, if you please."

Gohan positioned himself in line somewhere near the back. It didn't matter what number he was. He could tell that this tournament would be over quickly. The masked youth felt a light tapping on his shoulder, and turned to see a young man about his age with long blonde hair smugly crossing his arms over his chest and flashing the half-Saiyan a confident smile.

"So, you scored the '115,' huh? Must be nice," he said casually, flexing his arms and puffing out his chest. This person was bulky and doubtlessly spent much of his spare time body-building. But, if he believed flexing his muscles would win a tournament, he was sorely mistaken. "I got the '92.' Guess that makes me 'third-strongest' here at the tournament. I'm Sharpner." The two boys moved up in the line before the blonde one continued. "I noticed your stance is unlike any of the other fighters here. You probably use a different style, then. But I use Satan School Martial Arts. We're the best."

Gohan simply shrugged. Sharpner could clearly see that the masked fighter was not impressed. He continued, in a slightly more aggressive tone. "You know, it's the invincible style. It's the fighting discipline that saved the world," he insisted, trying to evoke some sort of response from the other fighter. "Almost all of the people here in the tournament should be using it. It was probably a fluke that you got into the top 16."

Not wanting to be rude, but, at the same time, not wanting to give too much of himself away, Gohan simply nodded and held out his hand for a handshake. Sharpner smirked and attempted to squeeze Gohan's hand as hard as he could, but was briefly shocked when the masked fighter displayed no obvious signs of pain. The blonde shrugged it off, reasoning that the guy must be hiding the pain behind his mask.

"So, not a very talkative one, are you, Jr.?" he asked, placing his hands over his hips and raising an inquisitive eyebrow. They moved up in the line. Gohan shrugged his shoulders again, giving the other boy nothing for the conversation. Frustrated, Sharpner slouched over and crossed his arms, muttering under his breath, "Yeah, well, I bet you're ugly under that mask, too."

Gohan approached the lottery box and pulled his number. _'7…'_ he read in his mind before flashing the number card to the announcer and the tournament officials so that they could add his name to the board. The Son boy walked to a secluded corner where he stood silently, watching the rest of the competition's processions and people getting back into their seats. He couldn't help but feel like he was being watched. It was more than just being part of the tournament, however. His feeling was more like someone was specifically looking out for _him_. Gohan readjusted the mask so that it fit a little more snug, trying to ensure no one could easily pull it off during a fight. _'Not that any of these guys can touch me,'_ he thought to himself. In fact, it was more likely a tornado would rip through the building and pull the mask from his face than any of these Satan School students.

The blonde boy approached Gohan in his corner and flashed him his number card. _'8…'_ Gohan read, paying the other young man some modicum of attention. Sharpner gave Gohan a bit of a sneer and said, "Looks like you're gonna be my first victim today. You should feel honored. I'll show you that it takes more than an impressive punch-score to beat a _real _fighter."

Gohan felt an involuntary tugging at his lips underneath his mask, his body trying in vain to display his amusement with this other boy's declaration. _'Oh, if you only knew…'_

* * *

><p>The fights were uneventful for Gohan, to say the least. The fans seemed to enjoy it. But Gohan could point out every single flaw of these Satan School fighters. <em>'They're too flashy…'<em> he thought, watching them waste precious energy trying to look impressive. _'Definitely a crowd-pleasing fighting style, if nothing else.'_

Some fighters definitely had potential to be greater, Gohan observed, but they were too busy calling out their attacks like _"Dynamite Kick!" _or _"Megaton Punch!" _as if they were playing some game or they hoped the reveal of their ultimate move will scare the opponent into a state of panic. Failing that, they tried to make any simple situation into a desperate one, so that it was all the more 'unbelievable' and 'awesome' when they wiggled themselves out of it. Despite all of its ridiculousness, Gohan did not waste this opportunity to study the opponent and figure out how to cleanly and efficiently beat them without looking peculiar in any way. _'They often attack the moment the announcer starts the fight. They probably think that being eager means being better.'_

Before he knew it, Gohan was being called up to fight. _'This is it, Gohan. Let's see if I can show the opponent that he's defeating himself. Just like Mr. Piccolo taught me…'_

"Ladies and gentlemen!" the announcer called, getting ready to begin the fight. "For the fourth match today, we have two students of two different schools of martial arts! I know you're used to seeing Satan School students up here, but let's see how this mixes it up! First, we have a well known student of the Satan School…Sharpner!"

Sharpner walked onto the ring, waving his hands to the cheering fans in the bleachers all around. The announcer continued, introducing the masked fighter next.

"And facing him will be a non-Satan School fighter who declined to reveal his particular discipline of martial arts…Demon Jr.!" shouted the announcer, pointing in Gohan's direction.

Gohan approached the center of the ring without any sort of showmanship. He didn't wave, he didn't pose, and he didn't even look to the stands. He was focused on one thing only – ending the fight. To do that, he had to focus on Sharpner. _'Never lose sight of the opponent…'_ thought Gohan, recalling his lessons with Piccolo. _'Okay. I'm going to take this one step at a time.'_

He took a quick around at the stage on which he stood. It was small, compared to what he'd seen at the WMATs from television. While the WMATs featured a 40-by-40 ft square arena, this city competition was probably less than half that size. _'Getting a ring out shouldn't be too difficult. But if his attack doesn't have the right speed, I have to make it look natural,'_ contemplated the half-Saiyan, moments before the match was set to begin.

Gohan lowered himself into his Demon Stance, keeping his body relaxed and ready. He noticed Sharpner getting into a stance of his own, and took special interest in how the blonde boy was shifting his weight. _'You're getting ready to pounce, aren't you?'_ Gohan asked silently.

No sooner than when the announcer called for the match to begin did Sharpner leap toward the masked fighter at full speed. "How's this for power, Mask Boy?!" he shouted with the utmost confidence, bringing his right leg up for an impressive roundhouse kick. "DYNAMITE KICK!"

Gohan moved just out of the flying kick's path with minimal effort, ducking under the side-sweeping motion of the high attack and gliding to the left, positioning himself in Sharpner's blind spot. The surprise of missing left Sharpner immobile for a second when he landed, and he failed to get back into a proper stance when he tried to turn around and face his opponent. As soon as Sharpner's front was exposed, Gohan lifted his right leg and kicked straight into the blonde fighter's left breast. While Gohan may have simply given his opponent a soft, but swift tap with his foot, Sharpner's inability to regain proper balance left him stumbling and ultimately falling out of the ring.

* * *

><p>"AND THE WINNER IS DEMON JR.!" exclaimed the announcer. However, rather than show any signs of celebration for this victory, the masked fighter shoved his hands into his pockets and walked back to his little secluded area. No fanfare, no victory pose, and no trash talk. This wasn't a showman. This was a warrior.<p>

The crowd was hushed over with this quick and decisive match. Sharpner was meant to be a favorite to win it all and he was out in one move. The display left even Videl a little wide-eyed. She had expected her schoolmate and friendly rival (as well as minor annoyance) to at least get a hit in on this mystery fighter. The way this man moved was unlike any fighter she had seen before.

'_No…No, Sharpner just got unlucky,'_ she concluded, shaking her head out of her previous shock. _'This guy took advantage of Sharpner's poor stance and sent him out of the ring. He won't be getting any more one-hit wins after this._

'…_Right?'_

* * *

><p><strong>The Writer's Block:<strong>

_Wow, I can't believe how quickly this is blowing up! I mean that in the "good way," of course. This is the first fanfiction I've written in years, so it's a pleasant surprise to see that I'm not the same writer I was, like 8 years ago, when I was 11. Seriously, you have no idea. I was stuck writing trivial and silly things like "Sonic in High School!" or "Sonic and Friends are Humans!" or something like that. Ah…childhood. I don't think I've ever published those, though. So that's a relief._

_Anyway, I want to thank everyone again for their reviews, for their favorites and follows, and just for plain reading this story! When I see you people telling me that this story has the potential to be great, I feel this weight on my neck that is both good and scary! I'm working super hard to make sure I don't let y'all down._

_Things I'm excited about this chapter: __**(1)**__ First tournament! It's pretty clear Gohan's going to win it all, so I'll have to figure out how to make future tournaments more exciting in some way without bringing in the rest of the gang. Fun-fact: I physically acted out this fight scene as I was writing it in order to get a sense of how to properly describe it. Hope I did well! __**(2)**__ Sharpner's first appearance! Though I doubt he's going to be much of a significant character in the story other than providing for some fun situations and maybe being Videl's measuring stick for how strong she's become. If you didn't catch it, Sharpner is supposed to be a competent fighter in Videl's opinion._

_Last time, __**lazybum131**__ pointed out that there were some inconsistencies in verb tense in the story. Thanks! That actually got me to reread those first two chapters again and correct any mistakes, verb tense agreement or otherwise. If any of you ever felt like going back and rereading the first two chapters, I think you'll find that the whole thing tends to keep itself consistent and be less repetitive in word usage. It didn't change much about the story on the whole, but these changes do make me happier with my writing overall._

_Okay, so I totally forgot to moderate my reviews, so some of the anonymous readers didn't get a question or two answered. So I disabled review moderation just so that the whole thing doesn't slip my mind next time. So anonymous readers, check it out: _

_The anonymous user named __**george **__asked why Gohan just doesn't go and extort the money from Hercule if his family has been struggling so much. I guess the story would just be over too quickly! Haha. But, seriously, I think such a thing would be out of character for Gohan. He is entirely capable of human mistakes, but I believe he is incapable of human selfishness. I know I made a comparison to Peter Parker last time (a character that has more than once displayed his selfishness in the comics) but let me explain. Gohan, like Peter, learns to face responsibility over his actions and inaction – particularly when it comes to failure. Both of his father figures died because of his inability to control his power. In Piccolo's case, Gohan failed to summon it when he needed. In Goku's case, Gohan failed to not let his power control him. So he has the "Uncle Ben" thing times two. What kind of responsibility would Gohan have learned if he used his power to harm people just because they had what he wanted? Just because Hercule isn't an entirely honest person doesn't mean he's a necessarily bad one. We've seen how good Hercule can be in the original series. He just happens to be loud and proud and gets on the gang's nerves._

_And the anonymous user named __**chris **__wanted to know if Gohan would stand up for himself when it comes to Videl. Um…Without spoiling anything? Let me just say that most of the Gohan/Videl stories that I've read typically go in one of two directions; Gohan is either extremely polite and "submissive" in an impossibly sweet and fluffy way to a tenacious Videl, making her into a gooey, lovey-dovey mess (the ever popular "Son boy" route); _or_ Gohan is bitter and vengeful towards Videl and her family but then ends up being aggressively protective in a barbarically loving way, making her into a conflicted, but undeniably attracted mess (the "Saiyan instincts" route). Sometimes, you get the exception where you feel like Gohan is just right without being too unbelievable a character. And, for some reason, all Gohans have perfect bodies that never cease to make Videl blush. I mean, she hangs out with buff guys all the time at her dad's gym. You'd think she's seen muscles before. Maybe it's because she likes Gohan that she blushes when she sees his body? Anyway, I aim to do neither of those extremes and hope that I get Gohan into the "just right" category. In fact, I hope that, from what you can see of Gohan so far, he isn't such an archetypal Gohan character. Yes, Gohan will be a nice boy. Yes, he won't mind people talking about him. But he does not like it if people talk about someone he cares about – particularly his father. And guess what Videl's father has the whole world saying about Son Goku?_

_As always, don't hesitate to tell me if you think I'm heading down the wrong path with the story! I'm currently wracking my brain over what's going to happen once I hit the actual "Gohan Goes to High School" stage, even if it's still a ways away. I want to avoid the beaten path of Gohan/Videl fanfiction without taking away the kind of situations that highlight what make these characters great and why their story just so happens to be one of the many told over and over and over again on ! At least when it comes to _Dragon Ball Z_ stories, anyway. And, apparently, they come _after _the Vegeta/Bulma stories. Not that I can blame them._

_Let me know if these "Writer's Block" sections are ruining the story for you or otherwise breaking up the action! I certainly hope not but, if you want me to tone down or stop it completely, let me know in your review! Then again, I guess you could always skip them over. Huh._

**_Final note _– I will probably not update again until the weekend. Luckily, that only happens to be a few days away.  
><strong>

_~smashbangfusion_


	4. Unexpected Meetings

**Demon Hunt: Chapter 4 – Strong Fighting, Perfect Timing, and Unexpected Meetings**

_July 24__th__, Age 773. Satan City Fighter Hall._

"Just what _the hell_ is this guy?!" growled Sharpner, watching the replay of the final match from the jumbo television screen. He angrily slammed his fist into the wall behind him, resulting in a weak thud that mildly surprised the audience members sitting in the stands just beyond the wall. A tiny figure glanced over the wall with slight interest before jumping down and joining the blonde youth on the competition floor. "It's a fluke," he seethed, crossing his arms, "A _damn_ fluke!"

"A fluke doesn't happen again and again for every single match, Sharp," the small girl responded, glaring at the television screen. "And you don't win the Satan City Tournament through luck alone." The blonde only huffed at this suggestion, until he gave this person a second look and realized that this fellow teenager happened to be his friend and the object of his personal interest. Sharpner crossed his arms and pushed out his muscles, again trying to make some sort of impression, and flashed a cheesy smile in her direction.

"Hey, babe. Came all this way for–"

"Don't even, Sharpner," Videl interrupted tersely, causing the blonde youth to cease with his display of muscular prowess. Sharpner sighed and folded his arms behind his head, leaning against the wall next to his schoolmate. After a brief moment of silence, she returned with a greeting of her own. "And 'hey,' yourself."

The tournament was in the middle of a brief interlude while the officials readied the closing ceremony and the cash prize for the winner – a grand total of 85,000 Zeni. In the meantime, each of the masked fighter's matches was playing in a loop on the jumbo screen for the audience. It was meant to be a highlight reel of the winner's fights, but given the way the matches were won, there weren't many specific points to highlight. Sharpner very loudly groaned and rolled his eyes when his defeat was played again. Videl very silently watched.

"The guy's _such_ a 'One-Trick Pony!'" Sharpner complained, throwing his hands up in frustration. The raven-haired young woman silently disagreed. She could tell that every action of his has been decisive, efficient, and calculated. Every victory was through 'ring out,' and every 'ring out' was achieved in a single move. She had initially predicted that Demon Jr. would fight as she would – jump in and overwhelm the opponent with superior speed and force – but this was so much more than that.

She watched the final match again, taking careful note of the action. The opponent, a Satan School student by the name of Pushop, tried to slowly shuffle his way into the masked fighter's space and surprise him with a leaping Megaton Punch. A sound strategy, it seemed, since attacking right from the get-go didn't seem to faze Demon Jr. at all. However, when the fist swung out, Demon Jr. seemed to have disappeared. Videl saw the masked fighter quickly drop to his back and roll with the momentum, simultaneously extending his legs and kicking up. His toes drove into Pushop's body just below his ribcage until the masked fighter's full Dragon Flag lifted the opponent up and over the edge of the ring. The move was simple, clean, and perfectly timed. Pushop was embarrassed, to say the least. So was every other fighter who had been put out of bounds by Demon Jr. in a single move.

* * *

><p>The replays were over. The lights of the stadium dimmed and a bright spotlight drew everyone's gaze to the center of the fighting ring. The announcer cleared his throat before holding up the microphone.<p>

"Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the winner of the Satan City Martial Arts Championship Tournament! This fighter seemed to have come from nowhere, but he was able to win it all! Demon Jr.!" shouted the announcer, enthusiasm and charisma coloring his thunderous voice.

Gohan humbly approached the center of the ring, rubbing the back of his turban before quietly reminding himself that he couldn't reach his head through it no matter how hard he tried. His sheepish grin was hidden behind the mask, but he couldn't help but feel everyone can see his slight embarrassment. Without much celebration, the masked Son boy bowed to the audience, to the announcer, and to the officials before picking up the commemorative shield and the aluminum-brushed briefcase full of his tournament winnings. As soon as he had what he wanted, he left without a word. The announcer couldn't even ask him to pose for the crowd and let them cheer a little.

The initially dumbstruck announcer could only laugh a little to hide the awkwardness of the situation before he raised the microphone once more. "Uh…Well how about that for humility, folks? That's all we have for the day's events. Let's give one more cheer for all the incredible fighters we saw here today!"

As Videl watched Demon Jr. retreat into the backstage area, something clicked in her mind. "Oh!" she exclaimed, startling Sharpner somewhat. There was a reason why she was at the Fighter Hall. "I need to follow that guy. Later, Sharp," said Videl, lightly punching the blonde in the shoulder before leaving him at his wall. Sharpner frowned as he rubbed his shoulder, watching the raven-haired girl chase after the masked fighter.

* * *

><p><em>Satan City Fighter Hall Backstage.<em>

The corridors leading back to the "Fighters Only" area and the locker rooms were filled with press agents and paparazzi by the time Gohan left the competition floor. The half-Saiyan could barely breathe with all of the excited reporters looking for their scoop, gathering around him like pigeons to a park statue. Oddly enough, that's exactly what Gohan wished he was at the moment – a statue.

"What do you have to say about your shocking upset?" one asked.

"Can you tell us about your martial arts discipline? Who taught you?" inquired another.

"What's with the mask?"

Put simply, the mask was a godsend. No one could see the incredible levels of anxiety that were so desperately trying to make themselves known on Gohan's face. In order to ease his nerves, if only a little, the Son boy took as deep a breath as he could through the mask. The "Fighters Only" area was just a ways away beyond the sea of journalists. Gohan began channeling his spirit energy into his lungs, feeling the air molecules slow down within him and change their vibrations with the frequency of his energy flow. He was about to say the one thing his mother taught him would _always_ get people to move out of the way.

"**EXCUSE ME**," his energy-charged voice bellowed in a deep, earth-shaking baritone. The initial 'boom' of the polite request to stand aside knocked some of the forefront members of the press clumsily onto their bottoms, and the reverberations made sure that no reporter could steady himself or herself long enough to properly question the masked fighter. Satisfied with the result, Gohan took this opportunity to speedily make his way into the locker room and change into clothes suitable for his return home.

* * *

><p>Videl's attempt to catch up with Demon Jr. did not go well, to say the least. As she neared a corner to turn into one of the hallways that led to the "Fighters Only" area and the locker rooms, an earthquake knocked her off her feet. It was especially strange considering earthquakes almost never happen in Satan City. In fact, earthquakes only happened out west. After the confusion and shaking wore off, the teenage crime-fighter picked herself up off the floor and dusted off her thighs, ready to reengage in her pursuit. That is, until she fully turned that very corner.<p>

Videl had not expected to be bombarded with the press the moment she entered the hallway. Sometimes, being a beloved local crime-fighter and daughter of a world icon had its downsides, too. One, for example, is that people are _always_ willing to listen, whether or not she actually wanted them listening. In a second, they were upon her, each one clamoring to get an exclusive, to get a photo, to get the latest gossip.

"Videl, what are your thoughts on today's competition?" was a popular question.

"How do you think your father will feel knowing students of his school were beaten so easily?"

"Videl! Who is this 'Demon Jr.'? A secret boyfriend? Are you getting him ready to fight with your father?"

This last question made the Satan girl stop in her tracks. She was prepared to simply walk past these parasites without much issue, but they were succeeding in pushing her buttons. The words "boyfriend" and "father" don't exactly go well together for Videl. During her fourteenth birthday, when a boy she had very much liked was violently pulled away by her father, Hercule Satan called for the ever-present tabloid journalists and paparazzi to let the world know that no boy will date his daughter unless he can prove himself in the ring with the man who defeated Cell. Suffice it to say, Videl's dating life, and whatever speed it had been gradually picking up when she finally hit puberty, skidded to an immediate halt. She never forgot the shame felt that day. Neither did the press, apparently. The end result was that Videl could barely associate with any boys her age, since most were too fearful of her father to even strike up a conversation. The only exception was Sharpner, who had been friends with the girl _before_ puberty and was, consequently, the only boy Mr. Satan would tolerate. Unfortunately for Videl, Sharpner _also_ happens to be a bit of an idiot.

The press was really on her now, giving her little room to breathe or think properly. Her struggling verbalized protests were barely audible as the reporters continued to harass her with question after question. Inquiries ranged from her alleged relationship with Demon Jr., to her thoughts on the future of the Satan School, to her latest crime-fighting activities. One question about the foiled bank robbery that very morning reminded her exactly why she was there at the Satan City Fighter Hall. She needed to find that vigilante and bring him in. She scowled and took a deep breath, preparing to shut all of these leeches up.

"Listen!" shouted Videl, so loud and commanding that everyone ceased their activity to do exactly as she had demanded. It was no earth-shaking 'boom,' for sure, but it was enough. Seething with frustration, patience wearing thin, Videl continued. "I want all of you to get out of my way," she stated, thirst for violence barely concealed in her tone. "Got it?"

Nodding dumbly, the reporters and photographers slowly cleared a path for the raven-haired young woman. Videl grunted with a strange mix of irritation with the press and satisfaction with her ability to take control of the situation. She was no police negotiator, but she definitely had that special _something_ needed to make people hear what she had to say.

Videl turned another corner. Just ahead of her was the "Fighters Only" area. Her target was somewhere in there, and he had nowhere left to run. The hallway in which she stood was the only exit from the "Fighters Only" section, meaning Demon Jr. _had_ to come out from there sometime. She could either go in and take a look around, or wait for him to come out and trap himself. Videl opted for the latter strategy and waited in front of the door. She noted the camera in the corner and wrote a small reminder in her notebook to check the security tapes later in case the guy had already gotten away. After all, the press had her held up for a pretty significant amount of time.

Her attention was stolen by the sound of a door opening to her left. It was the men's bathroom. Out from it stepped a young man with spiky black hair, with one or two locks lazily hanging over his forehead. He was tall, somewhere between lean and scrawny (hard to tell, really), and wore a white collared shirt and serious black tie. His bottom half was dressed with skinny grey slacks and polished black square toe shoes. A navy blue backpack was slung over his left shoulder, but it didn't seem like an item of _too_ much interest. He didn't look like a fighter at all. In other words, he was definitely not the person she was seeking. But he could at least be questioned.

"Hey," she called out, giving the dark-haired young man a bit of a start. "Have you seen a guy come out here?" She pointed to the doors of the "Fighters Only" area, and, to her dismay, the boy simply shook his head. _'Then he's still in there. _Or _I'm wasting my time,'_ she thought, bitterly.

The boy approached her. There seemed to be reluctance in his movement, as if he believed she was surrounded with caution signs. He wasn't entirely wrong. "Who're you searching for?" he asked.

"The masked fighter," she answered, turning her gaze back on the doors and not even giving the boy a second look. After a painfully uneventful silence, she asked, "Why are you here?"

"Bathroom," he replied plainly, gesturing back toward the door from which he came. Videl glared.

"That's not what I meant," she clarified, turning her face to the boy so that he may fully experience the sight of her sharp and intimidating gaze. "You aren't allowed back here unless you're a press agent, a fighter, or someone working in the tournament."

"I…uh…sneaked in to find that masked guy, too…" he answered, scratching the back of his head.

"Uh-huh. You're a fan?"

"Yup."

"Don't look like one."

"Nope."

His terse replies were beginning to get on the raven-haired girl's nerves. She crossed her arms and huffed, turning her sights back on the "Fighters Only" doors. "Can you believe those matches?"

The boy was silent. At first, Videl thought he shrugged his shoulders and left. It certainly looked like that from her peripheral vision. What was weird, however, was that the boy claimed to be a fan but neglected to fawn over her like most martial arts loving boys do. Any fan of martial arts would recognize her right away, so why didn't he? Not that she wanted such a thing. Even if the conversation was a little…less than engaging, it was oddly refreshing speaking with a stranger without her father being mentioned.

"The Satan School is too popular. Too widespread," he said after a short period of silence. This caught the teen crime-fighter by surprise. Of course, it wasn't what he said that got to her. Rather, it was the fact that he didn't actually leave when she thought he did. She's normally unsurprised with people's actions and intentions, and she's quite good at predicting how people react to her. If she thought he was going to leave, then he should have left. But he continued, "Everyone practices it. So everyone knows all the tricks, all the moves. And they got used to it. When someone with something new came along, they weren't prepared."

She wrinkled her brow, going over what this boy had just said. _'Is that why this 'Demon Jr.' guy was making some of the Satan City's best fighters look like idiots?'_ she asked herself. Videl turned to this mysterious young man. It seemed he had something interesting to say after all. She smirked. "So, in the end, you're saying they just got overconfident? Is that it?"

The boy shrugged again. _'Oh, aren't you the nonchalant one?'_ thought Videl, weak irritation making itself known through her inner voice. Something about this guy was definitely annoying. She just couldn't place her finger on exactly what it was that bothered her, though. It was strange; he seemed nice enough. He wasn't trying to hit on her or impress her in some way. Perhaps it was just the noncommittal responses that got to her. When he had something to say, it was nice. When he dodged the question, it wasn't so nice.

"The martial arts world is beautiful because of its diversity. The Satan School is trying to change that," he said, as if somehow picking up on her thoughts. "It's sad."

This made Videl think. More and more people sign up at Satan Gyms or Satan Martial Arts schools all over the world every day. It was rare that the students ever got to experience other fighting styles, but they were supposed to be the best! Who would possibly dare to fight them, even in a simple exhibition? This boy made a good point, though – the world of competitive martial arts has been losing its diversity, and the Satan School wasn't doing anything to help that. She smiled and held out her hand.

"I'm Videl."

The boy smiled in return. It was warm. Endearing. He took her hand in a firm, but friendly handshake.

"Gohan."

"Well, Gohan, it seems like the guy I was looking for must have already left," said Videl with some resignation. She brought her hands to her hips and sighed. "I'm going to personally look the place over to make sure. 'Fighters only,' so I guess this is where we part ways. It was…interesting talking to you."

"Same."

* * *

><p>Gohan watched as the small young woman walked into the "Fighters Only" area, no doubt looking for someone she had unknowingly just met. With a small smile, he tightened his grip on the shoulder strap of his bag slung over his left shoulder. Inside were the various items that surely would have exposed him if she had asked to check it – there was the dark hoodie and baseball cap, the turban and gi, the briefcase full of money, and the championship plaque. Coming out in his interview clothes was a good plan. Waiting until he got to the men's restroom to change was an even better one. He gave his watch a quick look.<p>

"Time to go home," he whispered to himself, readjusting the position of the bag's strap before continuing his escape out the backstage area. The press agents nearby weren't interested in him; he didn't look like a fighter from the tournament. They allowed his brisk stride without trying to question him or take pictures. It was really quite pleasant.

As soon as he was out of the Fighter Hall, the Son boy made his way to a secluded area hidden by the shadows and took off toward the skies. He closed his eyes and felt the wind rush against his face and pass through his recently freed crop of hair. It was a good day. _'85,000 Zeni…'_ he thought, almost laughing out loud in his joy. _'85,000 Zeni!'_ In his excitement, Gohan twirled in the air, rose up and fell in wide loops, and reveled in the freedom of flight. He couldn't help but scream out, "Yahoo!" as he swooped down from the clouds and wove his way through the tall forest trees. Nothing could ruin this day.

* * *

><p><em>Satan City Fighter Hall. Contestant Locker Rooms.<em>

"Damn him!"

A loud crash echoed throughout the locker room as Videl's fist found itself buried in the deep indentation of a badly damaged locker. The teen crime-fighter slowly pulled her fist back and sent it flying out again, another crash sounding throughout the room. A faint beeping emanated from her wristwatch, forcing her to stop her efforts in destroying the lockers and open up the communication link.

"Videl, we heard the tournament was over. Did you get the guy?" asked the man in the small screen. He was a middle-aged man with a calm, but tired exterior. His rough stubble darkened his hollow cheeks.

"No sign of him, Chief Barrel," she replied, doing her best to calm herself down despite the aggravation knowing the guy got away. "Can you get the traffic camera footage of everything that happened at or around the bank this morning? I want to see exactly what happened back there," requested Videl, before quickly adding, "Oh, and security footage of the bank's exterior. I think you can get that from one of the bank's security guards."

'_And, in the meantime, I'm going to get today's security tapes of the backstage areas…'_ Videl reminded herself, checking her pocket notepad. Her attention returned to her watch when the chief spoke up.

"Uh…I don't know Videl. Are you absolutely sure you need to arrest this guy? He doesn't seem so bad if he's helping us out," he said, struggling to find the right words to appease the young crime-fighter. "Let's just…wait and see. For all we know, he didn't do anything wrong."

Videl groaned. _"Wait and see?"_ Those were some of the words she hated most. Action must be made. She's not suggesting the police force go on a full-scale manhunt for the guy – just make sure he is brought in if and when they see him. What if he gets hurt trying to play 'hero'? Or worse, what if he hurts other people? Who's going to hold him accountable? But Videl's not going to disagree with the chief. Not to his face, anyway. She had respect for the man who agreed to fully sanction her work with the police. Said respect has certainly waned over the past few months, but there was enough of it left for her to know that she needed to follow his orders.

"Innocent people don't run from a crime scene, Chief. And he ran from the bank. But, fine. We'll play it your way – we'll _wait and see_ until this guy shows up again."

"Glad you understand."

"Yeah, well…If I catch him trying to _'help,' _I might just arrest him on the spot. Can you please just get a uniform to collect the security tapes from the bank and the traffic cams anyway? I don't have to look at them right away, but it'll be better than letting them get lost somewhere when we really need them."

"Right. Sure, Videl. Stay safe out there."

The call ended, and with a little 'blip,' the police chief's face disappeared from the screen. In its place was the digital watch function, which Videl wasn't really interested in at the moment. She let out an exasperated sigh, trying to release the stress from all of the day's events. She had missed the bank robbery action to some vigilante, she watched members of her martial arts school beaten easily by that same vigilante, reporters had the nerve to suggest she was in a relationship with that vigilante, and then, to top it all off, she failed to apprehend that vigilante when she thought she had him cornered. Remembering all of that did nothing to ease her frustration as she let another punch fly into a locker, breaking in the thin metal locker door so that it became useless.

'_Well, I'm still getting the security tapes from here. It's not a total loss,' _she thought, leaving behind the "Fighters Only" area and making her way toward the security office. Her mind seemed to wander back to that conversation she had with the smartly dressed boy named Gohan. He was unusual, for sure, but the way he talked about fighting made her really think differently about the current state of the Modern Age of Martial Arts. The masked fighter's effortless victories and what Gohan had said to her made it seem like she needed to reevaluate her own fighting style. Perhaps if she had a more diverse range of combat skills, as Gohan suggested, she could even outfight her own father. The thought made her lips curl into a confident smirk.

'_Yeah…today wasn't a total loss.'_

* * *

><p><strong>The Writer's Block:<strong>

_So I guess I sort of expected people to be a little put-off with the amount of writing I put into these author's notes for "The Writer's Block." I _knew_ I was writing too much! Anyway, I'm sorry if you were unfairly misled and disappointed about the length of a chapter because of the author's notes being so long-winded. I'm not going to say anything that isn't worth saying, and I'm not trying to seduce you with big word counts. When it comes to "The Writer's Block," people seem to have mixed reactions. I totally understand that – I like being able to share what I'm feeling about the writing, but I feel guilty that the past couple author notes have gotten so wordy. From what I've seen of my writing, I'm guessing by word count, the "Writer's Block" takes up about 20 – 30% of the reading. I'm going to try and tone it down for sure, but if I end up writing a whole lot it probably means I'm answering some questions or concerns about the story in some way. Speaking of which…_

_Last time, __**Nzl Onyx**__ gave some really great feedback. I'll try to answer your suggestions in a satisfying way. __**(1)**__ Like I said, I want to write Gohan in a way that rings true for the character. So, yes – he'll be a confident young man. But he won't be overtly proud. He isn't the type that's at his best in the spotlight, which I think you get to see in this chapter. When I get to the high school part of the story, I think you'll get to witness a lot more of Gohan's character fleshed out as he interacts with others. __**(2)**__ Videl learning Gohan's secrets is an important point in their relationship. At some point, there are no secrets between them. I don't mean to say that Videl will be acting like a sociopathic stalker when it comes to Gohan like she is in the show or other stories. In fact, she may not be interested in _Gohan's_ secrets at all. But at some point she will learn that Gohan is much more than what he shows his classmates. And I'm glad you like Videl's character so far! __**(3)**__ The frying pan thing…will probably never be mentioned again. If it becomes too glaringly out of place, I'll probably edit it out in the next few weeks. Thanks for your comments!_

_So, __**maximusrexmundi**__ suggested that Gohan can use his energy to alter the air density in his lungs…I never actually thought it could work like that! That's pretty cool! But it seems like that sort of energy manipulation is really concentrated because it has to do with altering the body's natural characteristics. When characters are doing things like expanding their sensory range (also altering the body's natural characteristics), they need to have some degree of focus. I feel like altering the air density in the lungs would require that same kind of concentration, like in the third chapter when Gohan was trying to suppress his energy to a super low point without going all the way to zero. It probably wouldn't be _as _taxing, but it will be difficult for Gohan to speak naturally if he is too busy trying to make sure he doesn't sound the way he normally does. As you can see, I'm using it here in this chapter for when Gohan _really_ needs to make an impression, but if he ever needs to actually hold a conversation as Demon Jr., he'll probably just speak so that the mask muffles and disguises his real voice. Thanks for the idea!_

_**jomama25**__ asked why the Son Family didn't simply ask Bulma Brief for money. This was briefly touched upon in the first chapter, but I never explained in full detail. I can understand the practicality – the Brief Family certainly never has to worry about money. But this isn't about being practical; this is about being responsible. Either the Sons are too proud to ask for money or they wouldn't feel right putting a burden like that on their friends. And besides, it's human nature to feel uncomfortable around friends to whom you are indebted. If the Sons asked Bulma for _her_ money to solve _their _problems, it would ultimately change the nature of their relationship. Maybe Goku and Goten wouldn't feel so bad about it, but Chi-Chi and Gohan sure would. I'd imagine Chi-Chi and Gohan would have a great deal of trouble looking any of the Briefs in the eye if they were forced to borrow money from them. Issues with money can end up hurting even the tightest or most solid relationships._

_As always, thanks for the favorites, follows, reviews, and just plain reading! Let me know in your review how I did this chapter! __**Seeing as I have midterms coming up, I probably won't update for a bit. More next week!**_

_~smashbangfusion_


	5. Policy, Parents, and Popularity

**Demon Hunt: Chapter 5 – Policy, Parents, and Popularity**

_July 24__th__, Age 773. Satan City Fighter Hall. Security Office._

The security office was rather dark and gloomy, illuminated only by the weak glow of surveillance screens playing the black-and-white live feed for the few unlucky security officers assigned to monitor them. Thankfully, their uneventful and dismal duty was brightened up due to the unexpected visit of the famous Videl Satan. Seeing her approach on the video feed, an eager security guard opened up the office door before she even had a chance to knock.

"Miss Videl!" the man beamed, inviting in the young woman with a friendly gesture. She gave him a "courtesy smile" before entering the poorly lit surveillance room. It was polite, but strictly professional and implicitly meaningless. Of course, any smile from the beautiful daughter of the man who saved the world, no matter how impersonal, was enough to make a good citizen of Satan City giddy for a decent amount of time. He couldn't wait to tell his wife and children what was happening today at work.

Videl brought her hands to her hips, looking over each monitor carefully until she realized she didn't know where to find the specific footage she wanted to see. Each screen displayed some monochromatic image of what seemed to be the exact same empty hallway over and over again. _'It's a wonder these guys don't go stir crazy…'_ she thought wryly. The Satan girl's expression hardened when she became fed up the sheer tedium of examining each screen. She turned to the man who greeted her, asking, "Can you show me the monitor for the 'Fighters Only' section?"

"Yes, of course, Miss Videl," he answered, leading the young crime-fighter to one of the monitors. "Um…what do you need to see it for, exactly?" he asked, out of both curiosity and a desire to chat with one of the city's biggest heroes (however small she may actually appear to be).

"Oh, just tracking down a dangerous vigilante. Nothing major," she answered with a smirk. He wasn't sure if she was joking. The guard hadn't heard of any dangerous vigilante on the loose. Then again, he hasn't seen or read any news from the last couple of hours. Still, the only badge-less crime-fighter around, to the best of his knowledge, was Videl Satan. Shrugging his confusion away, the security officer pointed Videl to the monitor that she wanted to see.

The Satan girl took a seat in front of the monitor showcasing the "Fighters Only" area, taking special notice of what she could and couldn't see from the video feed. The camera focused clearly on the doors to the "Fighters Only" section, allowing view of only a little bit of the hallway just before it, making for a painful blind spot. Unfortunately, there were no cameras _within_ the section, so she couldn't get anything more than what she could see here. "So, I can have a copy of all this from today, right?" she asked, pointing to her screen.

"Oh, yes, I believe so…" replied the guard, rubbing his chin as he thought of any potential issues with letting her take some security footage. There was one _slight_ technicality that he absolutely _had_ to mention. "But our company policy requires us to finish up the day and upload the security videos to the network before we hand anything over. You're gonna have to wait until tomorrow to get anything…Sorry."

Videl crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. "Does that policy apply to people working with the police? Like I said – I'm in the middle of an investigation." It was mostly true. The chief hadn't exactly _disapproved_ her "independent" search for Demon Jr. He simply disapproved the use of police resources for it. So, while it wasn't an _official_ investigation, it was still her investigation to follow through to the end regardless.

"Sure, but you'd have to bring a warrant."

The raven-haired youth groaned. _'There's no way Chief Barrel would let me get a warrant for this…Not after we agreed to 'wait and see'…'_she thought, rolling her eyes. _'And he wouldn't like it if I undermine his authority by going directly to a judge for it…'_ her mind continued, as she intensified her gaze at the live empty hallway display. She figured that, by the time she got a warrant, the day would be over and she could just get the videos herself anyway. "Fine, fine. Can I just look through what you've got right now? You know – without taking any copies home?"

The guard nodded, seeing as the other guards were on break and watching the recordings wasn't _technically_ breaking any rule. Videl smiled at the guard – this time out of satisfaction rather than mere courtesy. Still, it didn't seem particularly friendly or familiar. Its "professional" feeling was never lost.

"Good to know. How do you rewind this thing?"

As soon as the security guard demonstrated the basic functions of the security viewing controls, Videl got straight to work. _'The closing ceremony was over twenty minutes ago…So I'll just rewind until I see that on the timestamp,'_ thought the teen, pressing the 'rewind' button on the console. However, before she could even take a look at what she wanted to see, her wristwatch captured her attention with its faint beeping and light vibrations. Without looking where the video was, she hit the 'stop' button and opened up the communication link on her watch.

"Videl!" shouted a rough and somewhat obnoxious voice. A few security guards turned their heads upon recognition of the voice and the person from which it came. "I want you home immediately! Okay?"

Before she can answer, the link closed with a 'blip' and the digital clock returned to the screen. Videl closed her eyes and sighed as the guard who was previously helping her asked, "Was that Mr. Satan?"

"Yup. Aaand it looks like I'm going home." Videl closed out the security viewing screen, not even registering the turbaned figure with a backpack walking out of the "Fighters Only" section on the stilled video image. Of course, the dark-haired teen _was _tired, and the backpack didn't seem to be an item of any significance. Or, at least, it didn't seem that way in her weary state of being. She'd have to take a closer look to make sure, but she knew better than to put off meeting with her father when he called the way he did. She turned to the guard. "If it's alright, I'm coming back here tomorrow to pick up a copy of yesterday's events for myself."

"Sure thing, Miss Videl. Looking forward to it!" the guard beamed, even more giddy now having heard the voice of the Champ himself today. He couldn't wait to tell his wife and kids that he got to listen to the Champ's voice over Videl Satan's wristwatch. Such a thing was leagues more exciting than interacting with the Champ's daughter. He showed Videl to the door, barely able to contain his urge to bounce in place.

'_I wonder what Dad wants to talk about…'_ the raven-haired teen thought as she made her way toward the exit. As she neared the exit, the orange-and-pink-tinted skies of the late-afternoon, early-evening sunset hour greeted her with its warmth. She lightly fondled her capsulated jet-copter in her fingers before tossing it to a clear area, and, with a light 'poof' and some smoke, her bright yellow transportation appeared before her. Her thoughts remained on her father. _'He didn't seem to be in the best of moods…'_

Videl climbed inside and buckled in as she turned on the engines and prepared for the lift-off. The trip home, by her estimate, would only be a matter of minutes.

* * *

><p><em>Mt. Paozu. Son Family Home.<em>

The house was always quiet around this time. Right around sunset, Goten would be taking one of his many naps somewhere, Chi-Chi would be preparing the dinner, and Gohan would be finishing his studies for the day. Today was one of those rare exceptions. Sure, Goten was napping somewhere (again in Gohan's bed rather than his own), but Gohan was out for his "interview," and…_'Mom's…not in the kitchen? Weir–' _

The living room light switched on, interrupting Gohan's thoughts and revealing a very serious looking Son matron. There was a brief moment of silence between the mother and her eldest son as the unexpected confrontation left the poor boy stunned. _'Wh-what?'_ was the only word coming up in his mind as he stood completely still. Finally, he asked, "Mom? Do you…need something?"

"Oh, not at all," she answered, her stern look seeming to fade away into a dangerous grin. "I just want to know how your…_interview_ went."

Her emphasis on the word "interview" made the teen half-Saiyan gulp. _'Does she…?_' he thought, daring not to complete his own inner question out of fear for its answer. Still, the boy could not simply give up when the next two years of his life were on the line! "Um…Interview went well, Mom!" he replied, scratching the back of his head. "So…we don't have to worry about it, okay?" He chuckled to hide his shaking nerves.

"Well, that's wonderful, son. I would hate to think what would happen if you didn't get that scholarship."

"Uh…yeah."

There was another moment of silence. Chi-Chi's frighteningly calm smile fell from her face as she crossed her arms sternly. "Is there anything I should know, Gohan?" she asked almost challengingly. "Anything you're…_hiding_ from me?"

He tried to open his mouth and say, _"No, of course not,"_ but some kind of dry lump caught in his throat prevented any such lie from escaping. Speaking to that 'Videl' person earlier had been relatively easy when he wasn't feeling so intimidated, but his mother was something else entirely. Last time, he had over an hour to prepare his lie (which, he convinced himself during his preparation, was more _curving the truth_ rather than outright lying). When he _curved the truth_ whilst speaking to Videl or with his mother the other night, he only had to say what was necessary without completely giving away his intentions. This was different; he couldn't think of any way to skirt the question, and his mother wouldn't appreciate any non-serious, non-committal answers. So there Gohan stood like a deer caught in the headlights of Chi-Chi's unstoppable advance. After what seemed like a lifetime of being stuck within his own thoughts, Gohan furiously shook his head. His mother only frowned.

Chi-Chi sighed, no longer willing to play this game of cat-and-mouse with her son. "I called the Orange Star District Office a little after you left to make sure you got to your interview in time," she revealed, putting her hands on her hips. Gohan cringed; she definitely knew. "The secretary told me that no such appointment was made today." The Son matron moved herself to the comfortable chairs of the Son Family's living room, gesturing for Gohan to sit across from her. "So, let me ask you again, Gohan – is there anything I should know?"

He wasn't going to lie anymore. He couldn't and he wouldn't. But, when he sat down, he couldn't find the right words to say. So, instead, his mother asked another question. "Why did you walk out of your interview yesterday?"

Gohan mumbled something incoherent. Chi-Chi leaned forward, but she couldn't get much out of him. "Gohan…Talk to me," his mother urged.

"They were talking about Dad, okay?" he blurted. "They laughed at him! They…They just…" He ran his fingers through his hair and gripped his scalp, feeling the tension in his fingers before hunching over and letting his elbows rest on his thighs. "It made me _so_ mad…!" he seethed, his hands appearing as though they were strangling the air.

"Gohan…" She attempted to squeeze his hand reassuringly, but he retreated. Her fingers grasped the air between them as her son began speaking again.

"I…I didn't know what else to do. I wanted this Mom. I _really_ did…So I fought. I put on my mask again and I fought."

Chi-Chi's eyes widened; she was just shocked. She had to turn away, having no desire to even _look_ at her eldest after what he had just told her. The Son matron didn't even know what to think. Her son? _Fighting_? Needless to say, the woman was upset. She stood up with fists clenched at her side. "Gohan!" she hissed behind her teeth, looking down upon the hunched over figure of her son, "You _know_ you can't do that! What were you thinking?!"

"I…I don't know, Mom! I know you wanted me to get that scholarship! And I couldn't stand what those people were saying about Dad, so I had to do something!"

"And what happens if you're discovered?" she cried, tears beginning to form in her eyes. "What happens when people learn that you, Son Gohan, are related to Son Goku? Do you know?!"

Gohan fell silent. He knew exactly what would happen if people learned who he really was beneath the mask. The Board of Alumni certainly provided him quite the example – one he was unlikely to forget.

"If you keep winning these tournaments and keep risking your exposure to the public, you're throwing away your future! Someone will discover who you are. Someone will connect you to your father's name. And then, after all of that, guess who's going to try and salvage his reputation by tearing down yours?"

'_Hercule Satan…' _thought the teen half-Saiyan, looking up to his mother. She knew he got the message. Hercule Satan would do anything to maintain his image as "The Strongest." It wasn't enough that he had the championship belt. It wasn't enough that he was rich. He wanted everyone to know that there would never be anyone better than he. But, really, the Sons had to wonder, just what did this man have to prove? And to whom was he trying to prove it?

"Satan will brand you, Gohan. He will label you a liar and a cheat just like he did your father. No one will want to hire you! They won't even give you the time of day!" Her son wouldn't stop staring at the floor. She sighed. Chi-Chi knelt down beside Gohan and placed a comforting hand upon his back. But the situation was far less simple. Even if Mr. Satan didn't try to make her son out to be a fraud, what if his exposure led reporters to their home? They couldn't deal with such popularity! How much digging would they do? Would they learn that he's the one who killed Cell? That he and his brother are half alien? Would they take her children away because of it? She rubbed his back tenderly. "Gohan, this can ruin your life…"

It was difficult for Gohan to acknowledge this definite possibility, but his mother made a sensible argument. Even so, the boy refused to accept it. His father deserved better. And so he nearly exploded at his mother. "What are you saying, Mom? That I should just let people say what they want? These people who don't know anything – I should just let them talk about Dad like that? Or maybe I should just abandon Dad's name? Is that it?" He tried to stand up so that he could walk away, but his mother pushed him back down. She was clearly not finished with him.

"Gohan, I'm saying that you should _rise above_ it. Forget about what people say about your dad. You're better than them. I know it, our friends and family know it, and Goku up in the Otherworld knows it best of all." Chi-Chi stared at Gohan, carefully eyeing his expression, her hand once again gently resting on his back. "So forget about them, okay? It's their loss if they want to think that way without ever having known your father." She pulled her son into a soft hug before looking him straight in his dark eyes and confirming for herself that her words did the trick – he was ready to really talk to her. "Now…I can understand why you would want to walk out of that interview. But why did you want to fight in a tournament? Do you really want to go to Orange Star that much?"

Gohan looked down, breaking the eye-contact with his mother. He wasn't sure how he was supposed to say what he was feeling without upsetting his mother. _'She seems like she really wants to talk…'_ he observed. He decided to risk it. "I just…don't want to be homeschooled anymore, Mom. That's all," he confessed, warily glancing back up to his mother. She wasn't reacting – just listening. "If I had the choice between being stuck in my room and the dinkiest, dirtiest school in the entire world full of people my age, I think I'm about ready to pick the dinky school," he half-joked. A faint smile made itself visible on his mother's face. It seemed she understood. "I know you want me to go to Orange Star. And that's what I'll do."

He reached into his backpack and pulled out the briefcase full of prize money. Chi-Chi's eyes widened at the sight of the bills neatly stacked atop and aside one another. "H-How much?" she asked hesitantly, having never seen so much money in one place in years. Gohan grinned.

"85,000 Zeni."

The Son matron furrowed her brow thoughtfully. Her son needed to experience life as a normal teenager at least once. What kind of mother would she be if she denied her son's simple wish? Chi-Chi quickly grabbed the Orange Star catalogue from the nearby side table. _'85,000…It's enough,'_ she sighed, relieved. She quickly double-checked the catalogue. "It's 30,000 Zeni a semester, so that means 60,000 for the year."

Gohan's jaw dropped. _'It's really that much?! I had no clue!'_ He watched his mother begin scratching some notes on the catalogue. _'Mom told me not to worry about the cost since I was the perfect candidate for the scholarship. I just never expected it to be so bad…'_

"We'll put aside 5,000 more for books, extracurricular activities, school uniforms…" She paused and shot Gohan a decisive glare. "No sports." Gohan nodded his head slowly, still in shock over the school's massive tuition. "…And we'll save the rest for a rainy day."

Her son sat silently, processing just what was happening. "I'm going to high school?" he asked despite already suspecting the answer. A wide grin slowly crept its way onto his face in order to properly display his excitement. His mother tried to make herself seem more serious, but the Son grin was just too contagious. It did her well to see her boy so ecstatic. She, too, felt a powerful tugging on her lips that brought them to a wide smile of her own.

"For a year," she stated, trying in vain to maintain her air of seriousness. "Then we'll see if the kingdom would allow my father to help us out for the next one. And that's _only_ if you manage to keep your grades up, okay?" He nodded, this time quickly and eagerly. "Oh, and no more fighting. Training at home or with the gang is fine, but no more mask, okay?"

He beamed. "No more fighting," he echoed. And he was surprisingly fine with it. It didn't matter that he had to give up the mask – he was going to high school! New friends! New places! Maybe a girlfriend! Maybe! The eldest Son hugged his mother so tightly that he was worried he would soon break her if he were any less careful. Gohan loosened his grip and held her in a far gentler one. He was absolutely right – nothing could ruin this day.

* * *

><p><em>Satan City. Satan Mansion.<em>

Mr. Satan was in his private den – his usual spot at the end of the day…provided he was actually _in_ Satan City and _not_ on one of his many business trips and world-wide promotional campaigns. It was where he enjoyed the finer things in a wealthy life – whiskey, cigars, and a library of books he would never read. Such a room seemed excessive to his daughter (but she also said the whole estate was excessive when he purchased it four years ago). The World Champion of Martial Arts spent a fair amount of time at sunset "taking it all in" and reflecting on his grand success. He was a man who pretty much had it all; he had the love of the world, the respect and admiration of his contemporaries, and a beautiful daughter with the fighting spirit of tens of hundreds of his best trained fighters. And yet, today he was bothered. Today there was no appreciation for his high quality lifestyle. Today there was only one thing on his mind as he paced up and down the fine lounge, tension evident throughout his entire body until a sudden knocking tore him from his thoughts.

"Hey, Dad? You needed to talk to me?" asked Videl, the back of her knuckles resting on the door – the obvious culprit of the knocking. The champion's gaze rested upon his daughter's petite figure, admiring the cool and confident natural beauty that so greatly resembled his late wife. He believed that, because the two of them were all the family they had left in the world, it went without saying that the last two Satans shared everything. So, understandably, it simply broke his heart when he heard the news about his daughter today. Even so, he had to confirm what he heard for himself.

"Can you believe this Videl?! One guy beat all the Satan School students at the tournament today!" he exclaimed, somewhat startling the dark-haired teen. In his hands he held a sleek black tablet computer brightly displaying the news of the day's competition. He pointed to the picture of the turbaned Demon Jr. on the tablet, asking, "Do you know this guy?"

"Uh…I guess…?" she answered, not sure how to respond to her father's tone. "I mean, I saw the matches at the Fighter Hall."

Her father looked at her with fury in his eyes. "So it's true?!" he exploded, his fear undeniably becoming real before his very eyes. "You're really dating this boy?!"

"What?!" How exactly did the conversation come to this? Her father tapped at the tablet until it showed Videl the online news page from popular celebrity tabloid journal "Z-Weekly." She snatched the object from Hercule's hands and took a closer look. Without explicitly being libelous, the magazine seemed to suggest that Videl Satan was in a relationship with the mysterious masked tournament winner. After having read the first few sentences of the article, she threw the tablet aside to her father's chair. "This is so stupid!"

"Videl! Who is he?! Have you been teaching this boy how to counter my school? So that he could beat me and you could date him?" he cried. "How could you do this Videl? How could you betray your own father?!"

Videl looked at her father incredulously. She was speechless. Did her father just accuse her of betrayal? No, more importantly, did he just accuse her of having a _boy_ fight on her behalf? Anger welled up within; she shot her father a glare that would strike fear in the most hardened of criminals. "Are you serious?" she asked. "I've never even met the guy, never mind taught him!"

"Then how do you explain how he fought the best martial artists in the city and got away without a scratch on him?"

"Oh, I don't know, maybe he's just a really good fighter?" she asked sarcastically, crossing her arms over her chest and rolling her eyes. Then she remembered what that smartly dressed boy said to her back at the Fighter Hall. Satan School Martial Arts is the most widely used style in the world. So should it really be so odd that someone could potentially put that vast availability to use and create a counter-style? "Or maybe he beat everyone so easily because of _you_!" she suggested, jabbing her finger at him with the accusation.

"What do you mean?"

"You go around showing off your so-called 'Invincible Style' any and every chance you get! Your demonstrations are some of the biggest broadcasts in the history of television!" she shouted, her sudden rise in anger forcing her father to fall back on his chair. "The 'Fight Like A Champ' videos sell faster than anything else in the world whenever they come out, 'Body Like A Champ' commercials run every day to bring in more Satan Gym memberships, and more and more martial arts teachers incorporate your fighting methods into their own styles! When you expose your fighting like that to the _whole _world, is it any surprise that someone with half a brain can counter all your best moves?

"And, jeez, it's all your fault these paparazzi guys are saying these things about me! Who was it that said only the strongest guy can date me? I just happened to be at the tournament and those parasites practically jumped me! _They_ made those assumptions about that 'Demon Jr.' guy and didn't even let me get in a word of my own! I wouldn't even have to deal with this if it weren't for our open lifestyle!" she complained. At this point, she was fully aware that she was opening up a whole world of other issues she had with her life, but it didn't matter – the Satan daughter felt like she needed to get this off her chest. "Reporters harass me day in and day out and what do _you_ do about it?"

Her father was speechless. "Uh…I-Uh…" he stammered, utterly helpless before the raging torrent of ferocity that was his only daughter. It was what she said next that got him to speak up again.

"You know, sometimes I wish you could've taken our family and disappeared like Son Goku did. At least _then_ I could have some privacy!" she huffed, crossing her arms. She failed to notice the fire burning in her father's eyes at the mere mention of the previous World Champion's name.

"Now you listen here, young lady!" he yelled, jumping to his feet. "Son Goku didn't disappear because he wanted his privacy! He dropped off the face of the world for one reason, and one reason only! He's a coward who's ashamed of himself because I revealed the truth; he's nothing but a dirty, cheating fraud and the whole world knows it!"

"You're missing the point, Dad!" she screamed before stomping off. Hercule attempted to grab her hand and make her listen – no one turns away from the champion when he's still talking – but she yanked her fingers away from his grasp. "I don't want to talk about this anymore! I'm going to my room."

And so she left her father alone, confused, and upset back in his private den. He sighed. What was she complaining about? The Satans were doing _so well_ in the limelight. It's been that way for years! Frowning, the world champion picked up his phone and dialed the number for his agent. "Hi, Rudinea?…Yeah, well, I'm going to address the Satan City Tournament results soon…Just set up a press conference tomorrow. Make it at the Fighter Hall, okay? Great! Talk to you soon."

Regardless of whatever his daughter was feeling right now, he needed to make sure the people of the world knew that _he_, Hercule Satan, was still the greatest fighter to ever live. This 'Demon Jr.' guy barely registered on his scale; he was just some lucky kid that will be put back in his place soon enough. He could even use the press conference as an opportunity to clear up the issue with his daughter's alleged relationship with the masked fighter. And if that boy ever tried to make a pass at his daughter, there was one thing he should know:

_No one_ beats the champion.

* * *

><p><strong>The Writer's Block:<strong>

_With the fifth chapter, I uploaded a new book cover for those of you who are sick of seeing my face! I know I am. Haha. Tell me what you think, if it so pleases you! You can check out the full size and color on my deviantArt page** (the link to which you can find on my profile)**__! Also, I think that the new book cover answers __**ochariin**__'s question about Gohan's tournament attire (specifically, whether or not Gohan was wearing Piccolo's weighted mantle)._

_I'm glad so many of you enjoyed Gohan and Videl's first meeting in the last chapter! It was one of those things I was super excited about. Things I'm excited about this chapter? It was tough writing Hercule! I wanted him to keep his voice, but without being a silly, cartoony guy! Let me know if I did well in exploring the nature of each character's relationship with his/her respective parent!_

_** Aemilius95…**__I'm always a little confused about tackling the "nature vs. nurture" thing! Haha. In all honesty, I tend to believe nurture has a _little_ more to do with a person's identity than nature, but I can't deny it has its influence. That being said, I'm sure that the only character in the series that _really_ cares about Saiyan culture is Vegeta. I think the fanfiction writer __**Janiqua**__ said it in "Forgotten Strength," but I'll say it here: Gohan is unique among Saiyans. He isn't a super-happy goof like Goku or Goten, and he isn't an inherently fierce warrior like Vegeta. Gohan is very human. He is normally very kind and gentle. He's also shy, and can sometimes feel haunted by or overwhelmed with his doubt and failure. Only when he is angry does his ruthlessness show, but I don't think such a thing is exclusive to Saiyans. So if you're asking if he will display signs of pride or cruelty as Vegeta (a very Saiyan character) would, then the short answer is "no." At least, it should be…as long as Gohan isn't overtaken with fury for some reason._

_** strangebloke…**__I won't be tackling a "Big Bad" like Babidi or Buu, for sure, but I know that's not what you're _actually _curious about. I'm actually saving the world-threatening stuff for the project I was working on _before_ I posted up "Demon Hunt" on a whim. Anyway, I think the conflicts in the story are going to be more interpersonal and relationship-based. I probably haven't revealed much of the overarching conflict, but I think you can see some of that relationship-based conflict in this chapter. To be perfectly honest, writing this story is like an adventure for me – I have no idea where I'm going until my fingers start tapping away at my keyboard! But, thanks to your question, I feel like I can seriously see where the story is going and still be happily surprised with the results when I finish the chapter!_

_Thank you everyone for your reviews, follows, favorites, and for reading! Every time I answer a question about the story, I have to really think about how I'm writing the whole thing. The reason why this story has been doing so well so early on, I believe, is because these reviews are helping me to think critically about my own writing. __**Demonkid**__ suggested I begin answering reviews via PM. Let me know if you would prefer me to do so, or if you would like me to keep them in the "Writer's Block!"_

_As it turns out, __**I probably won't be updating for the remainder of the weekend**__. Instead, I'll be on a weekend vacation trip with my family._

_~smashbangfusion_


	6. Action, Procedure, and Dramatic Flair

**Demon Hunt: Chapter 6 – Action, Procedure, and Dramatic Flare**

_July 25__th__, Age 773. Satan City._

It was the day after the tournament, but Satan City still had not returned to its normal hustle and bustle. Once again, the streets were relatively quiet. There were still few people driving through the streets to get to where they needed to be, some people walking along the different shopping districts, some waiting on a bench for their bus to come. Despite her predilection for curiosity and normal desire to investigate oddities, Videl paid none of it any mind. She was too focused on her bubbling anger to think about why the streets of Satan City would be so empty again the day _after_ a major tournament.

'_I can't believe Dad just grounded me like that!'_ she seethed, her teeth firmly clenched and knuckles completely white with her balled fists. She was, quite literally, grounded. Her father had attempted to talk to her in order to attain a more firm grasp of what she was feeling, but she refused to talk. In his frustration, Mr. Satan barged into her room and took away her jet-copter capsule.

"_You'll get this back when you're ready to talk to me about how you're feeling," he said, pocketing his daughter's only Dyno-Cap._

Videl couldn't help but stare angrily ahead, glaring daggers at anyone she passed by as she recalled the memory. _'Yeah; as if forcing me to talk is going to help at all…'_ she thought, biting sarcasm pouring into her every unspoken word. The raven-haired teen all but stomped across the streets of the Satan City, fully knowing she would be unable to make a quick and independent response should the police need her assistance in some capacity. Videl knew that she was being a little unfair – all her father wanted to do was talk and she couldn't fault him for that. Still, this was no way to communicate. _'How is this so hard for you to understand?'_ she thought, almost hoping that her father would somehow hear her silent question despite knowing better.

She was currently making her way toward the Fighter Hall. After all, despite being without her normal mode of transportation, she still needed to follow up on her personal investigation on the 'Demon Jr.' character. No lack of wings was going to prevent her from sating her curiosity. Besides that, the poor girl really had nothing better to do. The Satan Gym was closed for the day, her father locked her out of the training rooms of the mansion, and Erasa was too busy at the school to "hang out" for the day. _'Well, it's not like I like shopping anyway…'_ she thought, rolling her eyes, _'…but it'd be nice to have someone to talk to, I guess…'_

Feeling thirsty, the young woman entered the nearest convenience store. _"__**Satan Mart**__,"_ the sign read, the enlarged face of the World Champion grinning widely and holding up a victory sign. Videl brought her palm to her forehead and groaned as she neared the automatic sliding doors. Everything in this city had his name plastered to it. And, sometimes, it was just _embarrassing._ Don't misunderstand – she will always be proud of her father's accomplishments as a fighter. It's just the fact that, time and time again, the man sold himself and those very accomplishments for a few more fans at a show or a few more dollars in the bank; _that_ was what bothered her so.

As the doors opened themselves for the local crime-fighter, a faint ringing sounded to alert the store clerk of the coming customer. It was no lowly cashier, for sure. Rather, it was the manager (Videl saw from his name badge) standing at the register. _'Odd,'_ Videl noted, since most Satan Marts were never so understaffed that a manager had to work the register him or herself. In fact, the only reason such a thing could happen is if there were some major event going on somewhere in town. _'Though…that _would_ explain why the entire city is practically empty at the moment…But there isn't even a competition or a Devils' game going on today…'_

She discarded her thoughts as she perused the aisles of the mini-mart, searching for something to satisfy her thirst. The raven-haired teen was in the far side of the store, out of sight for anyone near the register. That was when the soft bell chimed and another person walked in. Videl was focused only on the small can of juice in her hands until she heard the all too familiar sound of a crime in progress.

"Put the money in the bag," Videl heard someone order the hapless store manager. Quickly, but quietly, she placed her juice can back on its shelf and crouched to a low position.

Hidden behind aisles of various junk foods, the Satan girl stole a quick glance across the store to assess the situation._ 'Male voice…_' she observed, carefully sneaking her way to a better position. _'And he's armed…' _she thought, making careful note of the small pistol in his hands. _'Looks like a 9 mil. So long as I've got the element of surprise and room to fight, it's nothing I can't handle.'_

With any luck, whoever it was that was currently robbing the store would not notice her presence. The voice was muffled; the young crime-fighter didn't need to see him too clearly to understand that the man was wearing some kind of mask. In addition, the muffling indicated that the mask gripped tightly to his face. _'And thus, the mask will obscure his vision…'_she reasoned, coming up with a plan to take the gun out of play. _'He won't notice me, so long as I'm careful…'_

She reached the aisle directly behind the robber, creeping her way up to his back. _'Need to make a grab for his arm...' _she thought, eyeing the outstretched arm holding the gun. It was pointed directly at the store manager, who was, at the moment, obediently filling up the bag with the register's contents. _'No; it's too dangerous,' _the young crime-fighter cursed silently, seeing as the manager was likely to get shot if things went south. The Satan girl then noticed the jittery legs of the man with the gun. He was clearly itching to take the money and get the hell out of Dodge. Videl smirked, knowing she could use his anxiety to her advantage. _'Sweep the leg, Videl.'_

Her carefully constructed plan, however, fell apart when the store manager's wide eyes met her own. In his panicked state, the manager repeatedly shifted his gaze from the gun, to the register, to Videl, and back to the gun. It was only a matter of time before the guy completely gave away the Satan girl's position. With each of the manager's worried glances, a certain four-letter word popped up in Videl's thoughts. _'Gotta stay calm, girl…Let's hope the gunman doesn't notice me too soon…'_ she prayed, inching ever closer.

Noticing the changed attention in the manager's behavior, the robber followed his gaze and swiftly spun around, his gun still pointed at the poor man behind the register. All he saw was the flicker of a few black strands of hair as Videl dropped low and gripped the floor with her fingertips. She simultaneously shot her right leg out and swept it across the left, knocking the masked man off his feet. The robber's elbow banged against the counter and the pistol fired off at the ceiling.

Caught completely off-guard, he, too, could only think of a four-letter word – this time, shouting it out loud as his rear slammed into the hard tiles of the floor.

Acting quickly, Videl grasped the man's wrist and attempted to wrestle the gun away. Unfortunately, the man was already clambering back to his feet and rooting himself into a more solid stance. In the struggle, the weapon fired two more times, completely shattering the refrigerators in the back of the store and ripping through several bags of snacks. The raven-haired crime-fighter yanked the man's wrist down behind her left hip with both hands. Another loud crack sounded throughout the convenience store as a fourth bullet buried itself in the floor tile. The move brought the robber's chin down to a level where the small fighter could quickly bring her right knee to her opponent's chin in one, decisive blow. In a flash, the masked man lost consciousness and fell to the floor while the Satan girl was dusting off her hands with a few wiping claps.

"Got a rope? Cable tie? Something?" she asked curtly, her attention still fully focused on the unconscious man ahead of her. Videl kicked the gun away to the other side of the store and held her hand out to the store manager. Still quite shaken up, the poor man nearly tripped over himself giving Videl a thin roll of packing tape. She frowned at it, but decided that the adhesive strip would suffice – especially seeing as she had left her police-issue handcuffs in her jet-copter. _'And, of course, that, too, is with Daddy.'_

After properly binding the perpetrator's wrists several times over with the packing tape, Videl's face seemed to soften. She turned to the store manager, comforting smile gracing her face."Are you alright?" she asked the trembling man behind the register. He dumbly nodded a 'yes' for the girl as she brought up her wristwatch, pressing a single button on the side once. "I'm going to call the police to pick this man up, okay? Just sit tight." She received another nod before the man finally calmed his nerves enough to speak.

"Th-thank you, Miss Videl," he stuttered. Videl waved her hand.

"Just doing my job, sir," she replied before focusing her attention on her wristwatch. "…Hey, Koffi? Can you send a cruiser down to the Satan Mart on Champion Avenue? I have someone here who needs to be taken in…Yeah – it's the one near my house…Thanks! Appreciate it." Videl turned to the store manager, remembering her thirst. "Uh…you don't mind if I get a drink, do you?"

"Of-of course not!" he exclaimed. "On the house, Miss Videl! I insist!"

She smiled once more. "Thanks," said Videl, turning away toward the back aisles to see if she could find an undamaged can of her favorite juice. "A uniform…I mean, a police officer should be here in a few minutes. Don't worry; this guy will be out of your hair real soon."

A lone Satan City Police Department cruiser arrived at the scene after just a few minutes, as Videl promised. Two uniformed police officers stepped out from the vehicle and entered the convenience store. The officers Pins and Needles came to greet the young Satan girl and find out the reason she needed a cruiser to come by the store.

"Hello, Videl," greeted Needles, holding out his hand to shake the one belonging to Satan City's _second _most famous hero – the first being Mr. Satan himself. She took his hand and asked for a pair of cuffs.

"I ran into some trouble," she stated plainly, gesturing toward the bound would-be bandit lying on the floor. Needles shot her a quizzical look. "Armed robbery. Or, at least, an attempted one," she answered before the policeman had the chance to ask.

Needles sighed, waving his partner over to the barely conscious perpetrator. As if through some mental link, Pins automatically knew that Needles wanted the man cuffed and brought into the back of the cruiser. "Upsy-daisy…!" Pins lightly grunted, pulling the man up and removing his mask. He led the man back to the cruiser as he waved Videl a happy goodbye, flashing the girl a 'thumbs-up' sign on his way out. Videl laughed softly.

"Like I said, Needles; good to see your men at work," she half-joked, bringing her hands to her hips. The police officer, however, was not so amused. He picked up the light pistol from the ground and secured it in one of his spare holsters, remembering, of course, to activate the safe-action mechanism.

"Videl," he started, rubbing his forehead gingerly, "why didn't you call for backup?"

"I handled it, didn't I?" she asked, surprised at her friend's reaction. Just what was he upset about?

"Did you tell the man that you're with the police _before_ you knocked him unconscious?"

"_No_...I didn't want to give away my position and put the store manager or myself at risk."

He groaned. "Videl…!"

"What? What is it?"

"You can't just beat up bad-guys without telling them you're with the police or without telling _the police_ what the hell you're up to!" he shouted, Videl slightly taken aback. "There's such a thing as _procedure_, you know?"

'_Sorry; _what_ was so wrong with what I've done?'_ she asked silently, giving the uniformed officer an incredulous look before turning to a deep glower.

"Look – when we call you into a hot situation, we can take full responsibility for whatever happens," he tried to explain, clearly made uneasy by the small girl's hard look. "When you act out like this without telling us…It's just harder to do that – especially if something goes terribly wrong. I mean, shots were fired, Videl! What would you have done if someone got hurt?"

She huffed, crossing her arms. "Well…no one got hurt, so I don't see a problem here."

Needles shook his head. "…The SCPD can't let you help if you prove to be a liability. The next time this happens, I'm going to have to report you to the Chief." Videl's arms dropped to her sides and she grew wide-eyed, staring at Needles in a manner of disbelief. He patted her shoulder before adding, "But, this time…I'll let you off with a warning and we'll just forget this ever happened. Okay?"

The raven-haired teen brought her hands to her hips and heaved a sigh in resignation. "Yeah, yeah. Deal."

"Great. Are you going to your dad's press conference?" he asked, changing the subject to a lighter one. She looked up to him curiously, unsure of what the uniformed officer was talking about.

"What press conference?"

"He's holding one at the Fighter Hall. Mr. Satan's supposed to be talking about that guy who won the city tournament yesterday. If you want, I can drive you there," he explained whilst reaching into his pocket, prepared to activate his spare cruiser Dyno-Cap in case Videl indeed wanted to go. The girl nodded, and, as they stepped outside, Needles lightly rapped the window of Pins' cruiser. "I'm going to take Videl to the Fighter Hall. Take our guy back to the precinct and get him processed." He handed his partner the perpetrator's pistol.

Pins nodded and drove off, leaving Videl and Needles in the empty lot. The police officer clicked the button on his cruiser Dyno-Cap and threw it a short distance away. In a fast-dissipating cloud of smoke, a light police cruiser emblazoned with the SCPD shield and cruiser number appeared before them. Needles opened up the passenger door, saying, "After you, Miss Videl."

She scoffed, lightly rolling her eyes at this little display of chivalry. Saying nothing more, Videl climbed into the vehicle and waited for Needles to fire up the engine. _'I needed to get to the Fighter Hall anyway. Not looking forward to hearing what Dad has to say right now…but whatever,'_ she reflected, staring out the car window. Videl closed her eyes. It would be ten minutes before she reached her destination. _'Better than walking,' _she thought wryly.

* * *

><p><em>Satan City. Orange Star District Building.<em>

Young Goten carefully squeezed his mother's hand – letting her know that he was there, but careful not to hurt her by gripping too tightly. He looked up to his mother, who responded to his bright face with a loving smile of her own.

"Why don't you go to your brother, Goten?" she suggested, patting his back to the direction of the young man sitting in the waiting area behind them. The young half-Saiyan pouted; the waiting area was a boring and uneventful place and he was glad to be out of it when his mother's name was called up. Still, Chi-Chi's word is absolute in his mind. For the five-year-old, it may as well have been the voice of God. Then again… perhaps not, seeing as Dende was always more of a playmate than an omnipotent being.

"Heya, squirt!" greeted Gohan as his tiny brother approached his seat. The teen gave his sibling a look of sympathy. "You bored?" he asked, friendly smile lightly warming his face. Goten nodded solemnly. Considering the situation, Gohan did a quick survey of the room. _'No cameras…No one else around…I don't see the harm.'_

"Gohan! What are we doing here?" the little half-Saiyan whined. "I'm boooored!"

Gohan put a finger to his lips, gesturing for his younger sibling to quiet himself. "We're gonna play a game while we wait for Mom, okay? So 'shhh…'" he answered, gaining the interest and desired behavior of his brother. The little boy copied Gohan's gesture and nodded understandingly. Gohan couldn't help but chuckle at the cute kid.

"Alright; remember when we practiced how to sense spirit energy?" the elder Son asked in a low whisper. Goten nodded once more. "This is kind of like that." He held out his two fists before Goten, palms facing the carpets. "I'm going to increase the energy in a part of my body. You have to guess where it's strongest. Got it?"

Grinning, the other Son nodded. "Mm-hmm!" he answered.

"If you can guess all of them right before Mom comes back…" Gohan scratched the back of his head thoughtfully. _'What should I get the squirt? I have a little bit of money…' _he pondered, glancing back at his expectant sibling. "…I'll buy you a new toy before we head back home. How's that sound?"

The little boy was clearly excited now. A determined look formed upon his face as he waited for the older half-Saiyan to begin the game.

'_This first one should be pretty easy…'_ thought Gohan, giving one hand a more noticeable change in energy over the other. Goten pointed to his brother's left fist, a serious look scrunching up his nose and hardening his face. Gohan nodded in confirmation, stifling back his laughter. The kid was just too cute!

'_Now, try this one…'_ Gohan challenged silently, letting both hands relax and steadily raising the energy charge in both. After a few short moments, one was charged higher than the other. The difference, however, would have been hard to notice so quickly for the inexperienced five-year-old. And, just as the older one had predicted, the little boy took a little more than a minute to finally take a guess.

"Right hand," Goten answered, pointing to Gohan's right hand. With his usual warm smile, the elder Son nodded. He wondered if it would be alright to tease the kid a little.

With a small smirk, Gohan began charging spirit energy into several parts of his body at once, still holding his two hands in front of his little brother. After a few seconds, he stopped and asked his brother, "Okay. Now where?"

His brother looked at the two hands thoughtfully. It took him a second or two, but he picked out Gohan's right hand once more. To his surprise, Gohan shook his head. "Uh-uh, squirt. The correct answer was, 'left foot,'" said Gohan, pointing his nose down to his shoes. Goten tilted his head in confusion.

"No," the boy argued, continuing to point to his brother's right hand. "That hand has more energy in it than the other one, so it's right," stated Goten, very matter-of-factly. "You said you were raising the energy in your hands!"

"I said that I was going to increase energy in a part of my body, and that you have to tell me where it's strongest. Just because I was holding my hands out in front of you doesn't mean you were supposed to focus on only that," he clarified, chuckling at his own little joke.

Goten considered this for a brief moment before pointing an accusatory finger at his brother and exclaiming, "Hey! You cheated!"

Gohan responded with a sheepish grin, scratching the back of his head in the usual manner. "Oh, come on! I'll still buy you the toy. You did very well, Goten," he praised, ruffling his brother's spiky mess of hair. Then, his face turned serious. "But you can't just focus on what someone wants you to see. You have to look at the whole picture. Understand?"

Upon hearing that he would still be able to get a new toy despite his brother's 'cheating,' the youngest Son's pout melted away into an excited grin. And the lesson behind the game wasn't so bad either. He considered his brother's sagely wisdom for a second. "You mean, like…when I'm fighting?" he asked. Gohan folded his arms across his chest and thoughtfully rubbed his chin.

"Yeah, I guess that's how our kind of people would typically interpret it…" he answered. In truth, he was thinking more along the lines of 'life in general,' but if his little brother could only think of the lesson from the perspective of a martial artist, then he was willing to let it be. Besides – Gohan didn't want the little guy growing up _too_ fast. With a small chuckle, Gohan ruffled Goten's hair once more. "You got it, squirt."

At that moment, Chi-Chi returned to the waiting room with news for her eldest boy. She greeted her two sons with her gentle, motherly smile and handed Gohan a manila envelope full of his paperwork. Her oldest boy looked at the envelope before tilting his head to the side in confusion.

"What's this?" he asked.

"You're officially enrolled in Orange Star High School," answered Chi-Chi with a congratulatory attitude. "You and I will be filling out the paperwork in that envelope later tonight. On Wednesday, you're going to meet with someone at the school to turn in the paperwork and take a small tour. Got it, mister?"

Gohan happily nodded. "Sure, sure!" he answered excitedly. A tugging at his pants reminded him of something. "Oh!" he exclaimed. "Uh…Mom, while you were in there, I promised Goten I would buy him a new toy after he won a little game we played…You don't mind, do you?"

She looked down at the pleading face of her youngest. How could anyone say no to those eyes? Chi-Chi sighed. "Oh, fine. Just one toy."

The Son Family left the Orange Star District Building in truly good spirits. Goten was getting a new toy, Gohan was finally going to make friends his own age, and Chi-Chi saw both of her children happy. The Son matron smiled. It was as if, for the first time since Goku's death, things were looking up for the family.

* * *

><p><em>Satan City. Satan City Fighter Hall.<em>

"Mr. Satan! What do you have to say about the results of yesterday's tournament?"

The rather large, muscular champion of martial arts stood before a crowd of fans and reporters alike from the center stage of the competition floor. He stepped up to the podium in order to properly speak into the microphone. Hercule treated the photographers to his world-famous grin before clearing his throat to answer.

"Aw, I don't think there's much to say!" he laughed, bringing his fists to his hips. "The level of skill I've seen at the fights was amateur at best! In fact, I don't think those guys would last a second in the ring with me!"

The crowd 'oohed' and 'aahed' at their hero's confident words. He must be right; after all, this is the man who beat Cell! Never mind that the tournament was supposed to be the best Satan City had to offer. No, the fighters that had participated wouldn't even come close to the world-level. Another reporter stepped up to ask a question.

"Do you have any comments on this 'Demon Jr.' character?"

The champion smirked. "Well, I believe the kid must be paying some kind of homage to my name – what with being called 'Demon Jr.' and all. He definitely shows a _little_ bit of promise! It's just a shame that he chooses to use whatever newfangled fighting style he does and not my own. After all, there's a reason my fighting is called 'the Invincible Style!'" he boasted, flashing the crowd a little victory sign with his fingers.

"But if you're style is so unbeatable, then how did this masked fighter defeat his Satan School opponents so easily?"

"Uh…" Hercule could feel a single bead of sweat trickle down from his temple, but he didn't let it move past a centimeter down his face as he brought his index finger up to flick it (and any other gathering moisture) away with a few nervous scratches. "Like I said – the level of the competition wasn't too impressive. On the world stage, he'd be lucky if his level of skill got him up to the quarter finals! He'd _need_ to use the Satan Style to even hope to have a chance with the strongest fighters on Earth! Strongest after me, of course."

The fans nodded their heads in united agreement, lost in the dramatic charisma that is Hercule Satan. Reporters were simply happy because any story involving Mr. Satan was almost guaranteed to be headlining news (barring some horrible tragedy, but that hopefully wouldn't happen any time soon). His claims were baseless, but why would anyone want to argue with the man who killed Cell?

"Mr. Satan! What do you have to say about the rumors concerning your daughter that began after the tournament yesterday?"

The Champ rubbed his jaw-line thoughtfully. "Let me tell you something about my daughter!" he started, ready to rant once more over how his daughter won't be dating anyone who couldn't beat him in a fight. He paused, however, when his eyes met the cool, hard gaze of his daughter's blue eyes. She was in the back of the competition floor, silently watching him speak before the crowd of Satan City citizens. Hercule stared almost dumbly, unable to think of what to say.

Reporters took notice of Hercule's frozen and locked gape, and they were about to turn to see what had so captured the man's attention. Remembering that his daughter didn't want any more attention from the press, Hercule slammed his fist against the podium and turned everyone's attention back on himself.

"I'll tell you what I have to say about my daughter…" he continued, carefully glancing back to his daughter's face for just a second. She was still watching. "Videl Satan…is a proud martial artist, just like her daddy! There is no way she would secretly train a boy to fight me. Aw, heck – she'd rather do it herself!" he joked, glancing back to his daughter to see her reaction.

Videl let a small smile escape from her lips. _'I guess Daddy isn't so bad…'_ she thought, silently chuckling. No longer willing to stick around for reporters to notice her, the raven-haired youth left her father and the crowd with a small wave to the Champ as she entered the backstage area of the Fighter Hall. Before she was completely gone, however, she heard what her father added at the end of his little spiel.

"And, besides," the man nearly shouted into the microphone, "if that Demon guy wants to date _my_ baby girl anyhow, he's going to have to face me in the World Martial Arts Tournament this May! If he doesn't show up, then I guess that just means he's a coward! I wouldn't be surprised; I mean, hiding under that mask and all!" The Champ laughed as he said this, puffing out his hairy chest and bringing his fists to his hips heroically. The crowd laughed with him, fans and photographers alike snapping photographs of his every pose.

Videl groaned.

* * *

><p><strong>The Writer's Block:<strong>

_One thing that I happen to be super excited about is the fact that this story now has over 100 followers! 'Tis a momentous occasion, indeed! You're rewarded today with some Videl action and some Gohan/Goten interaction! Now, I know my last chapter garnered a LOT of questions, particularly about how I'm characterizing Hercule. So let me get straight to answering them…_

_Yes, I know that Hercule has a good heart beneath all his silly showboating. I actually _like_ Hercule, and I can understand how it's hard to read stories that are unfair to him. In any case, just let it be known that I _will_ be as fair to Hercule's character as I can possibly be. In fact, you don't see the "real" Hercule in the fifth chapter at all – he was reacting poorly to some ugly rumors concerning his beloved daughter. I won't spoil anything for any readers here, though, so if you want to work out specifics on how I will be characterizing Hercule throughout the story…you're SOL._

_In regards to "Chi-Chi's Fears," I believe it should be said that mothers have to account for the worst possible situations. So, yes, they may seem unsound to some, but it is something she has to worry about nonetheless. I won't say anything more about it without spoiling anything, so let's just move on…_

_Yes, Orange Star is super expensive. The most expensive a private university can get in terms of tuition alone in the US is around $50,000; private high schools go up to around $45,000. The reason why OSHS has such a horrendous tuition fee is because of arbitrary plot reasons. Copout excuse, I know, but I needed to illustrate that this school is the _highest_ level secondary school in the world – no contest. It gives Gohan a legitimate reason for traveling so far to attend and why an individual of such social standing and wealth as Videl Satan would be in attendance as well. Those kinds of things just wouldn't work out if Orange Star were a low-level public school as it was implied in the television show. (As a public school student for all of my young life, I want it known that I don't believe public schools are low-level; it's just that Orange Star Students apparently had problems "reading" according to the teacher who introduced Gohan in the episode "Gohan Goes To High School.")_

_Now, on to more individual answers…_

_**Captured Moon**__ asked about Hercule's agent's name. I can understand if there was trouble figuring out the play with her name 'Rudinea.' Where the name is first mentioned, Hercule says, "Hi, Rudinea." 'Hirudinea' is the scientific name for the leech. As far as Toriyama-puns go, this is not a very good one at all; it's not playful and it honestly feels a bit _too _contrived, but it opens up the possibility for nicknames such as "Rudi," or "Rude" – a kind of attitude that this character will be displaying to people she feels are beneath her or unworthy of her time (such as…well, Gohan, for instance)._

_**Aemilius95**__ would like to know about the future of Hercule and Videl's relationship, but I can't say much without spoiling something. I will say this: this story _is _about the relationship between Hercule and Videl almost as much as it is about the relationship between Videl and Gohan. So, yes, over the course of the story, you will see changes._

_**chris **__wants to know if I will be explaining the hatred Hercule seems to hold for the Son Family. It isn't hatred, per se, but more like he has to convince the whole world _and _himself that what those other fighters did at the Cell Games were tricks. In order to do that, he had to discredit the fighters best known for those "tricks," such as Son Goku. He doesn't actually know Son Goku, and this "hatred" isn't personal at all – Hercule simply has an image to maintain. Think of when Muhammad Ali would talk trash to his opponents before a big fight; it's not personal to him – just good business._

_**DarkVoid116**__ asked about the chronology of the story, specifically "when Gohan will be attending OSHS." When I said the "High School" part of the story was a ways away, I assumed I wouldn't be updating this story so often. I thought this would be a backburner project while I prepared a different story, but I enjoy writing it so much that I put the other story on the backburner and now work on this full time. In terms of the actual chronology of the story, Gohan has about a month until his fall semester at OSHS begins._

_**Guest**__…I wish I had a real username to which I can refer, but that's okay. I want to say thanks for all of your great feedback! I'm actually using some of your suggestions for Hercule's press conference, as I'm sure you have already read. As for the rest of your questions…They can all be answered within the story, so be sure to look out for them as the story moves along!_

_**Jarno**__ asked about the whole money thing from the first chapter, so I'll answer it here; Zeni, in the US production of the series, is worth about as much as the US Dollar. Of course, in the original Japanese production, the Zeni is worth as much as the Yen. In this story, the Zeni is more or less equal to the US Dollar. To answer your other concern, the 500,000 Zeni Goku won in the 23__rd__ WMAT was really all the money Goku ever had. For the WMATs in which Goku participated (the 21st, 22nd, and 23rd), prize money only went to the champion. Those two times that he was runner-up, Goku got nothing. It wasn't until the WMAT returned in _Dragon Ball Z_ did the runners-up receive any prize money at all._

_I want to thank you all again for your favorites, your follows, and for reading the story. Please review this latest chapter and tell me how I'm doing!_

_~smashbangfusion_


	7. Friends, Phones, and Wandering Thoughts

**Demon Hunt: Chapter 7 – Friends, Phones, and Wandering Thoughts**

_July 25__th__, Age 773. Satan City. Satan City Fighter Hall._

Once again, the guardsmen assigned to oversee security camera footage for the day welcomed the appearance of the famous Miss Videl into their dark little command center with open and eager arms. They looked up to her…figuratively speaking. For those working in the _"Serve & Protect"_ field of careers, she was a hero almost as important as Mr. Satan himself. Videl Satan was only a teenager, but her accomplishments within the SCPD were beyond impressive. And so, once again, one of the guards took it upon himself to open the office door before she even had the chance lift her hand to knock on it.

"You _have _to stop doing that," said Videl, shaking her head and smirking. The guard chuckled, assuming that she was simply telling a little joke. He wasn't entirely wrong. The smirk dropped from her face, indicating that it was time to _'get down to business_,' so to speak. Videl crossed her arms over her chest in a show of her current, no-longer-playful attitude. "So…You said I could get the security footage today?"

"Yes, of course, Miss Videl!" he responded enthusiastically, clasping his hands together and bowing slightly. He motioned her into the command center and brought her to an even smaller sub-office in the corner of the room. The security guard punched a code into one of the few consoles in the office, and, shortly thereafter, a small filing cabinet opened up. From it, the man pulled out a small, square data-disk. "This is all the footage from yesterday. All the information on it's already been uploaded to our company network and copies have been made, so you don't have to worry about returning it," he explained, offering the small item to the local crime-fighter.

She grinned. This happened to be one of the few things that day that was going by without a hitch. Carefully placing the data-disk into her cargo shorts' extra pocket, she thanked the security guard with a professional handshake and a courteous smile and retreated into the hall.

'_It's only a matter of time before I get to watch this at home…'_ she thought, heading back towards the exit just beyond the competition floor. It was during this small walk that she realized she would have to get back home on foot._ 'It'll take a little over an hour to walk…' _she estimated, slightly hanging her head. Such a distance was not beyond the girl's comfort zone – a light jog, at worst – but she didn't want to risk losing or damaging the data-disk in doing so. Then again, she did not want to just wait on the darn thing for another hour before she got to watch what was on it.

Videl briefly considered waiting for the press conference to end so that she may return home in her father's car, but ultimately decided against it. Knowing her father, he was far more likely to keep the conference going as long as possible to talk up excitement for the upcoming WMAT. And, besides, she wasn't entirely willing to speak to the man so soon. While the teenager could recognize that he's trying to be a good father, she was still unready to talk about…well, anything. What could she say that she already hasn't?

Her father knows that she doesn't want to be in the public eye; he proved that at the press conference earlier. Videl smiled once more, thinking about how her own father _actually _listened to her for what seemed like the first time since her mother passed on and Hercule became the Earth's greatest hero. And then she frowned, thinking about what her father had said right after that. If a boy wants to date her, then he has to beat the man who killed Cell? Talk about impossible demands.

Why did he even bring it up in the first place? Did anyone ask to be reminded of the conditions under which someone could date her? She certainly didn't. And, really, _what_ made him so incredibly pig-headed about this? It's not like she went about gallivanting with different men the way he did with his floozy women. And, besides, he –

'_Whoa, Videl…Stop thinking about it, or you'll never be able to talk to your father…'_ she warned herself, stopping in her tracks as she let her dangerous train of thoughts go on without her. Videl sighed. She didn't appreciate how her father had, quite literally, muscled his way into her love-life, but it's not like she had much of a love-life with which to begin. _'Ugh…I'm not gonna get _anywhere_ if I keep thinking about this…stuff.'_

She ultimately resolved to keep walking. _'I've waited over 24 hours…what's one more?'_ Videl asked herself, shrugging her shoulders. At times like this, the teen wished she had a mobile phone. Sure, her watch could call the police with the touch of a button, but it was built for receiving calls rather than making them. Videl reminded herself to rectify that sometime in the coming future, carefully jotting the note down in her pocket notepad.

The raven-haired crime-fighter briefly entertained the idea of calling for another cruiser to drive her home, but such would be a terrible waste of police resources. While she was certain someone working a slow beat wouldn't mind being her driver for a little while, the girl was even more certain that she would feel ashamed of herself for burdening her colleagues in such a way. _'They aren't like my personal taxi service or anything,'_ Videl thought to herself as she placed her hands into her pockets.

It was still strange for Videl to be referring to men and women who were each around a decade older than her (and some older, still) as 'colleagues.' She was but a teenager, just about to enter her penultimate year of high school, and she had already been pivotal in more than one extreme situation during her few months assisting the police. Videl was only a small, sixteen-year-old girl, but she was well-seasoned in the art of combat beyond anyone else in her entire school. Hell, she wouldn't be surprised if she happened to be the most combat-experienced teenager in the entire world! And so people praised her. _"There goes our hero – Videl Satan!"_ they would say. _"It's no wonder she's so amazing; she's the daughter of Hercule!"_

And, yet again, her thoughts wandered their way back towards her father. _'Wonder what he'd say if he knew that I was chasing after that Demon Jr.? Or that I was bringing videos of him to our home?'_ she wondered, contemplatively biting at her lower-lip. Then, it clicked. _'Ah,' _she thought as if there were nothing more obvious in the world. No doubt the whole situation would be misconstrued, as most situations involving boys and her father most often are. _'He'd flip.'_

"What is with him and this fear me being boy-crazy?" she asked aloud in frustration to no one in particular. Seriously; _boy-crazy? Her? _ She could honestly think of no boy that was worth her time for any more than a simple sparring match. "Darn it; it's not like I'm Erasa or anything!"

* * *

><p><em>July 28<em>_th__, Age 773. Satan City. Orange Star High School._

Gohan gazed upon the wonder that would be his high school in a matter of weeks. The school grounds were rather large – complete with a full baseball field, soccer field, a Olympic-size track, a Olympic-size pool, a full-sized gymnasium with attached changing rooms, and a rather tranquil water fountain placed just before the main building. However, in comparison to the rest of the school grounds, the main building itself seemed far less impressive. Everything was obviously in the most immaculate condition, but the building seemed fit for a maximum student body size of just about 400 – perhaps 500.

Then again, such a thing shouldn't be so surprising or unexpected; the school was known for its exclusivity and high standards. Even with all the 'right' social connections, Orange Star's entrance exams were at a level significantly more challenging than a typical set of standardized tests. Unless _everyone_ attending Orange Star High School was an elite-level genius or an otherwise _very_ hard-worker, the tests were hardly what one would call 'standardized.' It was a pleasant surprise when his entrance exam scores were sent to the Son Family Home, all of them perfect. Chi-Chi was proud, of course, but expected nothing less of her eldest son.

The dark-haired youth held the Orange Star High School brochure gingerly in his hands as he made his way down the path to the main building. Just before the entrance, a petite young blonde waved in his direction. Knowing that there was no one else around, Gohan figured this stranger must have been calling him. He approached her. This girl wore a short-bob haircut that seemed to swoop effortlessly over her eyes. She carried in one arm a thin, brown clipboard with a few papers tucked into it. She was his age; he could tell. That made him a little nervous. _'Is she going to be one of my classmates?'_

"Hi! You're Son, right?" asked the blonde. She smiled sweetly at the boy, holding out her hand to introduce herself in the usual, friendly gesture. "I'm Erasa Capp. I'm going to be giving you the tour of the school today!"

Gohan tilted his head, initially confused. Still, not one to ignore a friendly handshake when it is offered, he took her hand with his own and introduced himself in return. "It's nice to meet you, Erasa," he replied, the gentle and welcoming smile of the Son Family gracing his features. "But, uh…why did you call me 'Son?'"

Erasa looked at him, a little puzzled. "Hmm? Oh, did I get that wrong?" she asked, checking her clipboard for any mistake she may have made. The document upon it read "**Son Gohan**" at the very top, next to the young man's photograph. "Isn't your first name Son?"

The boy shook his head. "No, 'Son' is my family name. My given name is 'Gohan,'" he answered with a amused smile. The girl checked her clipboard once more. Her eyes widened with sudden realization.

"Oh! _Family_ name!" she exclaimed, perking up a little bit. She made a quick note on her document before looking back up to his dark eyes. She returned his smile with one of her own. "So you're an East District boy by blood, huh?"

Gohan nodded. He had read a little about this distinction between people of the East District and the rest of the world; people with family roots in the East District traditionally constructed names by family first, followed by the given name. Everywhere else in the world seemed to be content with the West District construction of "First Name, Last Name." In recent years, where people of all districts (North, South, East, West, and Central) can be found in almost any major city, many East District families have been "westernizing" their name structures. There were still more than a few "traditionalists" in the world who were proud of their heritage and home district in the east, but that number was falling just a little bit more every couple of years.

"That's right," said Gohan, still smiling his ever amiable smile. "Son Gohan. But you can just call me Gohan."

"Well, Gohan," replied the blonde, hiding a cute chuckle behind her fingertips, "Like I said, my name is Erasa. And it's very nice to meet you, too!" She gestured for him to follow her into the school building. "Come on; let's go ahead and turn in that paperwork of yours so we can start this tour!"

Eagerly, Gohan stepped into the entrance hall after her. Erasa was nice, or so the half-Saiyan believed. She certainly wasn't radiating with any obviously nasty vibes. Even so, it made him a little bit uncomfortable to be walking with this very attractive young woman on his tour of the school…but he could deal with it. It wasn't as if there were any intentions there anyway. Still, something about the situation made him curious. "Um…Don't take this the wrong way, but why are you showing me around? You're kind of young to be one of the staff, aren't you?" he asked as the blonde led him through the school.

"Oh, you're right; I'm just about to enter the eleventh grade like you!" she replied, smiling up at him. "But I also have a special sort of…job in my class." Before she could continue, Erasa stopped in her tracks. "Ah, here we are!"

Erasa pointed to a service window to her and Gohan's right where a middle-aged man was nonchalantly organizing several papers on the other side. Gohan cautiously approached the window, fishing out the manila envelope from his backpack and placing it on the windowsill. He and Erasa waited patiently until the man was quite ready to offer any help. Without exchanging a word, the elder man raked the envelope across the windowsill to his side. A simple nod to the two teenagers seemed to suggest that he would take care of everything. Delighted to have that out of the way, Erasa excitedly grabbed Gohan by the arm and led him away to a hallway intersection so that they could begin the tour.

"Great! Now…Where to start?" she asked aloud, despite Gohan not exactly sure how to answer. He blushed, eyeing the foreign arm that was currently wrapped around his own. The Son boy was not so…inured to contact with the fairer sex – especially with an individual whom he had just met. To his relief, the girl let go as she clasped her free hand over the clipboard. "How about your classroom?" proposed Erasa, not noticing Gohan's slightly pink complexion.

"Uh…Yeah; sounds good," he replied, scratching the back of his head. Gohan followed her throughout the building as she continued to talk about the school.

"So…there aren't really any lockers here," she stated, pointing to the mostly empty walls of the hallway that they were crossing. "The school follows some of the eastern school conventions. Students are assigned a single classroom and teachers come to them. The only lockers are the ones in the PE changing rooms. I'll be showing you those later!"

Erasa stopped before a locked door labeled "**4D**." She patted the door and turned to Gohan. "This is your classroom. 4D. It's a pretty great class," she said, beaming at her tall companion. "I'm in it, too! In fact, you'll be sitting next to me on your first day!"

Gohan considered what she had just told him before asking, "How are you so sure that I'm sitting next to you on my first day? Isn't that stuff…kind of random?"

"Ah, hmm…At Orange Star, the school wants to make sure all of the students are happy with their environment. So the teachers select someone from each class to show any new students around and be like the new person's first friend. That's how I'm here."

Indeed, she seemed very friendly, if not a little on the bubbly side. It was pleasant to know that such a nice person was going to be his first friend – assigned responsibility or not. "You seem like the right person for the job," Gohan commented. "You're a very nice person, Erasa."

"You say that like we've known each other for a long time," she smiled, tilting her head to the side. "But how are you so sure? We've only just met!"

In truth, he had felt it in her energy. Sensing the energies of individuals was not something Gohan made a habit of doing; he had come to expect mostly 'neutral,' if not a little 'selfish' vibes from normal, everyday people. But he was curious about this person that was to be his first friend, and so he decided to concentrate on the power she was emitting and put her character to the test, so to speak. It wasn't very strong, but he could understand the undeniable warmth beneath it nonetheless. She was, indeed, a very nice person. "Oh, I don't know…Sometimes, you just feel it, right?" he returned with a smile. "Besides, the teachers chose you for this job, so you must be something special."

She hid a slight giggle behind her fingers. "Thanks…" she responded. "So are you gonna stand around being sweet to me all day or do you want to continue the tour?" she joked, flashing him a teasing smirk. Gohan tilted his own head in response.

"Um…being sweet?" he questioned in his confusion, completely unsure of what Erasa was asking. The Son boy wasn't unfamiliar with the simple term, _'sweet,'_ and its social connotations, but he was a little confused as to why she would bring it up. Was he being sweet? It certainly wasn't his intention; he was just being honest.

This time, the blonde laughed, as if Gohan had told a joke himself. "As much as I'd like that, we probably need to get on with the tour. So…come on."

The two of them walked side-by-side as she showed him all around the school. Gohan could see why the school's tuition was so expensive; every piece of equipment, from the schools computers to the various sports teams' gear, was top-of-the-line and in no need for replacement or repair. Despite being a moderately old school, the building showed nearly no signs of wear and tear and the school grounds were kept in an ever attractive state. Truly, the entire campus was a sight to appreciate. Gohan inhaled deeply, taking in all that he could with his single breath before letting it go. It was Erasa's voice that shook him from his brief moment of tranquility.

"It's a nice place, don't you think?" she asked, summing up the gist of Gohan's observations. Gohan nodded with a warm smile. "Anyway, that's all I have to show you, really."

"Thank you for the tour, Erasa." He held out his hand in a gesture of farewell.

"No problem! I'm not exactly excited about going back to school, but it'll be nice being your classmate this fall," she replied, taking his hand in her own and giving it a single, gentle pulse. He smiled at her.

"I look forward to it."

* * *

><p><em>Satan City. Satan Mansion.<em>

For the past couple of days, Videl Satan had been sitting before her laptop computer poring through the same few minutes of silent, monochromatic video. She clutched her pocket notepad in her left hand firmly as her right utilized the pen in its own grasp to jot down any significant details she may have missed. A few more moments of quiet observation passed before the Satan girl swiveled in her chair, turning from her desk to her bed, and chucked the small notepad hard to her pillow. Her mind felt as if it was boiling over in a volatile combination of frustration, aggravation, and the Satan City summer heat.

Another moment of deafening silence passed as the raven-haired youth leaned back against her chair and crossed her arms over her chest, all the while staring at the little, ruined notepad. A couple of pages were strewn across her bedspread, while the slightly crumpled notepad in question was simply resting against her decorative pillow returning her gaze with infuriating neutrality. It was open to a single page – the first page her notes on Demon Jr. Videl picked up the little book and went over her few notes on the subject one more time.

* * *

><p>"<em><strong>July 24<strong>__**th**__**, Age 773. 10:45 AM. Man stops bank robbery. Runs away from scene. Tall. Dark hoodie. Titans baseball cap. Possibly carrying weapon. Dangerous?**_

"_**10:58. Man of that description registers for SC tourney. Alias: Demon Jr. How did he get there so fast?**_

"_**11:02, man in hoodie enters 'Fighter's Only' area. Dark backpack slung on left shoulder. No distinguishing features on bag.**_

"_**11:09, man exits from 'Fighters Only' area wearing gi, turban, mask. (THIS WAS WHEN I LANDED HOW DID HE GET THERE SO FAST)**_

"_**4:00 PM. Demon Jr. wins tournament. (Will have to get the Waves/Rocks tournament video when avail.)**_

"_**5:00, Demon Jr. accepts prize money and leaves. Only interested in money?**_

"_**5:03. strange earthquake shakes the area. Only happens in the backstage halls. Nowhere else affected. Why? Shaking shifts the view of security cameras in the backstage out of ideal positions.**_

"_**5:04, turban visible at bottom of video feed as door to **_'_**FO' area opens. (I was stopped by press)**_

_**"5:05. turban visible at bottom as door to 'FO' area opens again. Time diff. too short to have changed clothes. Must have grabbed bag and left?"** _

* * *

><p>It was a combined account of the notes she scratched on during the day of the tournament and the notes she added in between while watching the security tapes for the past few days. Videl was trying to establish a timeline in order to better understand the events of that day. If she could do that, then it would be that much easier to sort out the important information and find out what she wanted to know about this "Demon Jr." person.<p>

The universe must have been playing a cruel joke on her with that earthquake. That one event, however short-lived it was, did more than knock her on her rear. Almost every security camera became useless – either pointed too high to too low or facing some corner…What she could grab were glimpses. Pieces. She was about to throw something at the useless little notepad when her room's landline phone rang. Videl huffed and approached her bed's side table, harshly picking up the handset and putting the receiver to her ear.

"What?" she demanded.

"Well, gee, Videl. Is this a bad time?"

"_No,_ Erasa, I just…" Videl let out a moan of irritation as if it were the only way for her to articulate her feelings to her best friend. "This stupid investigation is going nowhere. It's…nothing." She tenderly rubbed her forehead and sighed as she sat down on the side of her bed. "What's up with you?"

"Oh, oh! So, listen; I just gave that tour to the new guy, right?" She waited for Videl's response to confirm that she was listening. "And, God, he is _so_ cute! I can't believe I'm saying this, but…I'm actually excited for school!"

Videl rolled her eyes, hoping that her friend could somehow _feel_ her disinterest in the topic from over the phone. But, of course, such a thing was impossible. Even so, it didn't keep the girl from trying. "I'm so happy you have your priorities set straight, Erasa. Who knew it took a boy to get you interested in your education?"

"So this guy," she continued, as if Videl hadn't said anything at all, "he's got these eyes…and, OH! And this smile! And –"

"Look, Erasa…" interrupted Videl, shaking her head. "Can we _please_ just talk about anything else?"

Her friend was silent for a moment before asking, "How are things with you and your dad?"

"Things are…fine. I'm grounded, if that's what you're asking," she answered, leaning back onto her pillows. She and her father had their talk after he had returned home from his press conference and the subsequent dinner with the ever-popular Rude. They had discussed very little, with Videl trying to convey to him that she wanted to be taken seriously, and Hercule trying to use his action at the press conference as an example of him doing exactly that. The gesture was nice, Videl admitted, but _one_ instance of listening to his daughter after years of doing as he pleased was not good enough. She wanted a sign that he could trust her as a mature young woman. He told her that he didn't know if he could do that just yet. She frowned, recalling the memory.

* * *

><p>"<em>If that's the way you want to play it, Dad, then fine!" she yelled at him, turning away and storming off towards her room. Her father chased after her, calling out her name.<em>

"_Videl! I'm not through with this talk yet!"_

"_Well, I am!"_

"_Sweet pea…!" he cried dejectedly, grabbing her by the wrist and spinning the small girl to face him. He had a pleading look in his eyes. "Just what do you want from me?"_

"_Nothing, Dad! Okay? Nothing." She paused. "I don't want to talk about it anymore!" She tried to rip her arm away, but she couldn't.  
><em>

"_Videl," he started in a warning tone, keeping his grip on her arm. It wasn't so tight that it would hurt her – he was careful of that – but it was firm enough so that the girl wouldn't slip away. He stared into her piercing blue eyes for just a second before he let go. "Fine!" he shouted, turning around and crossing his arms. "Go to your room! But you're still grounded!"_

_Videl turned away as well, and, with a huff, she started back up the stairs. He said one last thing to her before she disappeared._

"_And don't think we're done talking about this!"_

* * *

><p>"I'm sorry to hear that, Videl."<p>

The sound of Erasa's voice over the phone shook her from her thoughts. _'Sorry to hear what?' _she was asking in her mind. _'Oh, right. Sorry that I'm still grounded.' _Videl sighed. _'Why does Daddy have to be so stubborn?' _she wondered, turning over on her bed so that she lied on the side of her body, curled up in an almost fetal position._ 'There's nothing to talk about if he's not willing to listen to me!'_

"Videl? Still there?"

"Sorry, Erasa…but, like I said – I'm fine."

"Are you sure about that? I mean, from what you told me yesterday, this is the first time you and your pops had an ongoing argument like this."

"The only reason for that is because we haven't talked to each other for…well, for a long time," admitted Videl, staring at a picture of her late mother and herself on her side table. "He'll forget about it. I'll forget about it…I just wish he didn't take away the jet-copter. It's going to really hurt my ability to help people if I can't get around."

"Hey, I'm sure Sharpner would be willing to drive you around!" suggested the blonde.

"Ugh. Sharpner? That's the best option you can come up with?" The idea of being driven around all day by the incorrigible blonde was not an appealing one. At any moment he would try to hit on her, try to push her buttons in some way, and then he'd probably try and play it off as_ 'pumping her up for the baddies.'_ Videl knew perfectly well how much fun angry fighting could be, but she also knew how stupid it would be to rush into battle with armed men half-cocked in that way. Sharpner was _not_ an option.

"You know anyone else with a driver license?"

"…It's not like I can just call him," replied Videl after briefly considering the idea. _Briefly_.

"Why not?" asked Erasa, before realizing she already knew the answer to her question. "Oh, right – no mobile phone."

"Yeah…Why is that, again?"

"I seem to recall you crushing the last one you had during one of your police crusades. What was it? That cute jewelry place those guys were trying to rip off four months ago." Videl could almost imagine her best friend's amused smirk as they both recalled the memory.

"Yeah. It got in the way…" she trailed off. "Well, I don't think I'm going to have to worry about the police anyway. They didn't call me in at all yesterday."

"Why, Videl! Are you suggesting that the police officers of our fine city are _competent_?"

"Don't say it like that! They do good work – with or without me. I just…I dunno. Maybe Dad's taken this whole 'grounded' business up with them and that's why they haven't called me about anything. It would make sense," she replied.

"Hmm. I guess." Videl could hear the faint sound of something heavy pulling over. "Oh, there's my bus! I'm sorry, Videl; I have to go now."

"No problem. Talk to you later."

"Later!"

Videl hung up the phone and got up from her bed. She picked up the fallen pages of her notepad from the floor of her room and tried her best to stuff them neatly back into their rightful places. Scratching the top of her head in a contemplative manner, the Satan girl brought the notepad back to her desk and opened up another video recording of the backstage halls from the day of the tournament. Having nothing better to do, she watched. She searched for that one clue that could help her find out the little details of this person – his gait, his nervous tics…anything to help her.

She couldn't help it; she was intrigued. Curious. Puzzled and infuriated. What kind of person hides behind a mask? How does he fight the way he does? How can she become that skilled? Videl could only sit and wonder. Besides, it wasn't like she had anything better to do than wallow in her curiosity. Videl frowned.

'_God, I hate being grounded.'_

* * *

><p><strong>The Writer's Block:<strong>

_So this was a very dialogue-heavy chapter. I like it…but I want to know what you all think. I don't plan on making other chapters so dialogue-driven, but I felt like this was a pretty good use of Erasa's introduction, seeing as she likes to talk._

_I'm quite pleased with how I changed Erasa up in this story. She is most definitely still the type that's "crazy for cuties," but I feel that the blonde now has more of a reason for bringing Gohan into her circle of friends than him being "the super cute new boy."_

_In regards to the whole thing on "naming conventions," I just wanted to explore the "Dragon World" a little bit. I mean, I notice a lot of people making Gohan's name "Gohan Son," which doesn't really sound as great as "Son Gohan." But then, there are those who use the traditional arrangement and apply it to characters like Videl, Sharpner, and Erasa. "Rubba Erasa" and "Pencil Sharpner" are cool sounding names and all, but it just doesn't sit right with me for some reason. So I came up with the idea that the families native to the East District (much like a number of the people of the eastern parts of the world) have their names arranged the way the Son Family does, while families with heritage in other parts of the world use the "westernized" convention. What do you think of "Erasa Capp?" I just can't think of one for Sharpner that sounds as nice. Seriously; "Sharpner Pencil" does not roll off the tongue so well. Have any suggestions for a "westernized" name for Sharpner?_

_Finally, I want to thank everyone who had reviewed the previous chapters. __**As of publishing this chapter, this story now has 100 reviews! **__Strong feedback is, I think, integral to keeping up the quality of the writer's work, so I encourage it highly. Now, to answer some questions! First off, I haven't posted every response this time. The "Writer's Block" would be way too long! So I chose a few of my replies that I believed proved an interesting point on the story, or gave me an idea for future chapters. I will, however, retain shout-outs to those whose questions I have answered via PM._

_**Brainless1**__ asked about the financial status of the Ox Kingdom…or, why they didn't work out a partnership with the Capsule Corporation, given the relationship the Son Family has with the Briefs. I never actually thought about exactly _how_ the Ox Kingdom would recover! Haha. But…economic problems are extremely difficult to fix, even with a good plan. Sure, the kingdom could work out a mutually beneficial deal with the Capsule Corporation, but, even so, the recovery wouldn't be instantaneous. Rather, the recovery would be over the course of several years. Still, I'd like to be able to use that idea if I ever get to a point where I can mention the state of the Ox Kingdom again. As it was said in the second chapter, the kingdom is fast-approaching the point where the Ox-King could soon comfortably say that the kingdom is back on its feet, so it would only make sense for there to be some kind of explanation as to why that is._

_**DarkVoid116**__, I'm sorry if you're confused with Mr. Satan's character. I'm trying to reveal what I can about him without delving too deeply into his thoughts because this is a story primarily told from Gohan and Videl's respective, limited points of view. I put us in his mind when he was introduced in the fifth chapter, but I wasn't quite sure whose point of view I wanted to focus on then. I think Hercule is an interesting character because it's so difficult to see what's real about him. Is he acting this way because he needs to keep up his image? Is it what people expect of him? Or is it what he expects of himself? I can tell you that, when it comes to the people for whom he cares, the man does show a little bit more of his true self than we realize. That is why he said that great stuff about Videl when she was watching him, but then immediately reverted to his pig-headed persona when she left his sight. I think that more of this can be revealed over the course of the story, but I hope that my response is enough for now._

_Also, when it comes to Gohan's nickname for Goten…When I wrote the chapter, I wasn't entirely sure if I'm meant to capitalize 'terms of endearment.' I know you're supposed to capitalize nicknames, and that's what I figured 'squirt' was. Now I realize that 'squirt' is, of course, a term of endearment and I know that it should not be capitalized. Thanks for pointing that out! I have since replaced the second and previous chapters with appropriate corrections._

_Special shout-outs to__** Aemelius95**__, __**KaosMoshipit**__, __**Noip13**__, and __**maximusrexmundi**__ for their questions. It feels good to answer questions, truly. I feel like I'm learning more about my own story every time I do._

_Anyway, thanks for reading, for adding this story to your list of favorites, for putting this story on your watch list…As always, please feel free to leave a review and let me know of what you think about the chapter or the story as a whole! Anything I need to improve? If anything worries or confuses you, let me know!_

_~smashbangfusion_


	8. Breakfast, Culture, and Fame

**Demon Hunt: Chapter 8 – Breakfast, Culture, and Fame**

_July 31__st__, Age 773 Red Sun City. Temple Avenue._

Red Sun City, Blue Comet City, and the city formerly known as Orange Star City (and now known as "_Satan City_") were the three municipal areas that made up the Celestial County of the East District. Unlike its more modern sister cities, Red Sun City was known as an East District cultural haven. Its historic temples and palaces made the old town both iconic and beautiful – a must-see city for sightseeing tourists. Artisans gather along all sides of the busy main streets during the summer time to sell their skillfully handcrafted goods – paintings, carvings, traditional eastern clothing, etc. While Blue Comet City maintained a peaceful atmosphere often sought in a suburban city, and Satan City was a contemporary metropolis rivaling the District Capitals of Earth, a day in Red Sun City was like walking a hundred years into the cultural past – especially during the nights of festivals.

For Videl Satan, it would take but a single hour for her to fly over in her yellow jet-copter. However, seeing as the poor girl was still grounded, she had asked her friends to take her to their neighboring city so she could follow up on rumors that a certain masked fighter would be participating in the Rising Sun Tournament. She, Erasa, and Sharpner left Satan City at 11-o'clock in the morning for the three hour drive via Sharpner's hover-car.

It was 2-o'clock when they arrived – just a half-hour before the tournament's commencement ceremony. After encapsulating the vehicle, the trio made their way down the city's historic avenues so they could reach the Rising Sun Temple in time for the tournament's main events. Being that it was the day of the tournament, merchants and trade artists of all kinds began setting up their street shops for the many potential customers leaving the temple after the matches. Already, there were people gathering around the various kiosks – most likely bored and without more interesting activities to do before the qualifiers ended and the real competition began. The shopkeepers didn't mind; more eyes upon their goods meant more interested customers.

Videl, at first, was worried about the bustling crowds of Red Sun City. In Satan City, it didn't take much for a local to recognize her and raise a big fuss – especially on the day of a competition. Here, however, it seemed such concern was unnecessary. People held her in the same regard as they did the stranger standing to their respective lefts. So long as she didn't go around announcing her last name, it seemed she could navigate the streets in relative peace. On the other hand, it seemed she couldn't navigate said streets very quickly; a certain blonde was lagging behind among the crowds, admiring the local craftsmanship and art.

"Erasa!" Videl called, reprimanding her friend for her less than serious attitude. "We have to go!"

"Oh, come on, Videl!" she moaned, having little desire to see a martial arts competition. Erasa jogged up to Sharpner and Videl's position, telling them that she wasn't going with them to the temple. "I want to see what this town has to offer! It's not every day we go to Red Sun City, right?"

"More shopping?" assumed Sharpner, bringing his hands to his hips. He shook his head, wearing a half-smug grin. "Why am I not surprised?"

"Erasa, we've never been to this city before. What if you get lost or hurt?" asked Videl in an almost lecturing tone. The petite blonde simply smiled.

"Got your phone, Sharpie?" she asked, holding up a small device in her hand for Videl and Sharpner to see. The larger blonde smirked and reached into his pocket for his computer phone. The two blondes waved their phones almost teasingly in front of a slightly embarrassed Videl. Satisfied with her friend's reaction, Erasa pocketed her phone. "So you see? You can just call me when it's time to leave! Or I can call you if I'm in trouble, however unlikely that would be. We'll meet…" She glanced around for a suitable landmark. Her eyes fell upon the large entry gates of the Rising Sun Temple. "Ah! We'll meet at the temple gates! How's that sound?"

Videl looked at Sharpner for his opinion. He shrugged. "Erasa is sixteen. She can handle herself," stated the muscular blonde. Erasa nodded in confirmation. The raven-haired teen let her gaze wander up and down the streets, trying to find some flaw in Erasa's plan. In the densely populated streets, it was unlikely anyone would be moronic enough to try something creepy with so many witnesses. Plus, every corner had a sign that pointed tourists toward the Rising Sun Temple, so it was unlikely that Erasa would get lost when it was time to meet up and head back home. Videl sighed.

"Alright," she resigned, bringing a palm up to her forehead. "Sharpner and I will head up to the temple without you. Take care."

Erasa gave a quick hug to each of her friends. "Don't worry! I'll buy you guys some souvenirs. Have fun!"

* * *

><p><em>Rising Sun Temple.<em>

True to the aesthetic of the town, Rising Sun Temple featured very little modern technology for a venue sponsored by Waves and Rocks. No jumbo television screen, no spotlights, no cameras. The fighting ring was a simple, circular construction covered in the typical hard tile of most professional tournaments, its diameter measuring an approximate 30 feet. The actual temple – the site of meditation and prayer – was a little ways beyond the competition grounds.

Videl scanned the different sections for a suitable area from which to watch – one clear enough for comfort, high enough to observe the matches properly, and close enough to the ring so she could spring into action should the need arise. _'Crowded,'_ was the word her mind could best use to describe the spectator sections. It was a rather successful event, given the turnout. Then again, it could also be due to the greatly anticipated appearance of Demon Jr. at the tournament.

She had first learned of the rumors from Sharpner. He called her home just the other day, having kept an ear to the ground for any news on the masked fighter that embarrassed him so. It seemed he was just as determined as she was when it came to finding out the identity of Demon Jr. Perhaps he intended on redeeming himself in some manner. Or perhaps he called Videl up for this little "demon hunt" in an attempt to be alone with her for a few hours. Videl called for Erasa to join as a buffer just to be safe, but that plan fell apart rather quickly.

It wasn't that Videl hated Sharpner; really, the boy was just a _little_ annoying one or two many times a day. It was all mostly tolerable, but she preferred his company in a group setting rather than one-on-one. Within the trio, the tall, muscular blonde was cool, collected, and kind of funny in a _somewhat-at-your-expense_ kind of way. It was nothing that seriously hurt someone; he made sure to avoid the kids already down on confidence – for Videl's sake, if not theirs. As far as he was concerned, it was harmless. A teasing comment here, a sarcastic statement there…all for the sake of taking a guy down a peg before he got too big for his britches. It had earned an amused smirk from the raven-haired teen on more than one occasion.

When he was alone with Videl, however…

"So. Babe. You. Me."

Videl swore to herself she wouldn't punch him.

"Don't worry; I'll keep our _date_ a secret. _Our little secret._"

Videl stopped her movement, turned around, and blocked Sharpner with a firm palm to his sternum. "Look, Sharp," she said, glaring straight into his eyes, "You told me about this. So thanks. But, if you want this day to go well for you, then _please_ don't do that thing where you act stupid." Videl turned back around and continued walking. Sharpner followed close behind her. Things were pleasantly quiet between the two of them for a short while.

"So I noticed you didn't deny that this was a date."

With that, forgoing any resolve she had, Videl spun herself around counterclockwise and threw her right fist toward the young man's face. Sharpner, anticipating the action, stepped back and caught her fist with his left hand. With a growl, she pulled her fist back and brought both hands up into a fighting position. Sharpner responded by bringing his hands up to his shoulders, open palms facing Videl, in a sign of surrender.

"Hey, hey, I get it; not a date," he admitted with a bit of a smirk. Videl lowered her hands and huffed.

"Just so we're clear," grunted Videl, turning back around and heading towards the place she deemed suitable for a seat.

"Oh, we're clear, babe," replied Sharpner. She rolled her eyes.

Ten more minutes until the qualifiers were over. After that, the participants will be announced, as well as the order of the matches. Videl took her seat, Sharpner sitting an acceptable and appropriate distance next to her. That distance would most definitely shrink to the point where she would have to tell the blonde off after some time. _'But that shouldn't be too soon,' _she reasoned, considering their most recent _exchange_.

Even so, after the announcements and commencement ceremony, she still had to sit through the matches until she could properly confront her target. Matches could last up to ten minutes, there was a five-minute preparation period between each match, and between the major rounds there was a break period of up to half-an-hour. She glanced over at Sharpner, who had nonchalantly scooted her direction by an almost imperceptible distance. And yet, she could still _feel _his approach. Videl leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees and propping her chin atop her palms, glaring at the center of the ring.

It was going to be a long day.

* * *

><p><em>Yesterday. July 30<em>_th__, Age 773. West City. Brief Family Home._

The Son Brothers stood before the front door of the Brief Family Home, waiting for some kind of response – either from the door itself or the intercom just next to it. Goten tugged at his elder brother's arm sleeve impatiently.

"Gohan!" he whined, this time shaking his brother's arm up and down with both hands. "Ring the doorbell again!"

Gohan smiled at his brother weakly, unable to resist his childish 'charm.' With a nod to the little half-Saiyan, the eldest Son pressed his finger firmly to the ringer. The chiming tune of the doorbell seemed to bring a smile to the little boy's face. After the brief melody faded from the boys' ears, Goten waited two more seconds before he tugged at his brother's sleeve again.

"Do it again, Gohan!" he ordered. The older sibling frowned at this munchkin's apparent lack of manners. He shook his head at the little boy.

"Sorry, squirt," was all he offered, shrugging his shoulders. The little one pouted, crossing his short arms over his chest. Gohan ruffled his brother's hair with an amused grin. "I'm sure someone is on their way to the door right now; don't worry about it."

The sun began to rise behind them, replacing the pink-and-orange twilight of the early morning sky with the typical pale blue. It was getting close to 6-o'clock in the morning, so it wasn't so abnormal for the residents of the Brief Household to still be in their beds. _'Ah…I knew we left too early…'_ thought Gohan, turning towards the sunrise and squinting at the sight.

As always, the Sons woke up on Mt. Paozu as early as the sun – 6 AM East District Time. After a hearty breakfast (expertly prepared by their mother, of course), the boys performed their usual morning routine and started on their way toward the Brief Family Home for Goten and Trunks' play date. Having been long overdue, the little Son made Gohan promise to take him to the Briefs' extra early so that he could have more play time with his best friend. And so, the duo had left at 7:00 AM – the both of them sitting on the Flying Nimbus together. While the trip had taken about two hours, Gohan forgot to account for the three hour time difference between the East and West Districts. Thanks to his little slip-up, he and his brother arrived in West City at just before 6 AM West District Time.

'…_Wait,'_ thought Gohan, turning back towards the doorframe and staring at the intercom buttons just underneath the doorbell. With more than a slight suspicion that a certain someone would definitely be awake at this hour, Gohan let his finger hover over the one labeled "**GR**." The dark-haired teen cleared his throat before stepping a little bit closer to the speaker and opening his mouth to talk. He pressed his finger to the button. "Vegeta?" he called, almost sure that the Saiyan Prince would be in the middle of Gravity Room training at this early hour, if not just starting. "Would you let me and Goten in the house?"

He took his finger off the button and waited patiently for the older Saiyan's response. After a few seconds, a faint panting emanated from the speaker box.

"Is that a request for a spar I hear?" growled the speaker box, the panting starting to slow.

'_In the middle of training, then,' _noted the teen. Gohan pressed his finger to the button once more for his reply.

"No; we're just here for Goten and Trunks' play date. Would you mind?"

Another silence. A grunt followed shortly after, and the locked door to the Brief Family Home popped open, inviting the boys inside. Before stepping inside, Gohan pressed the button one final time.

"Thanks, Vegeta." He was about to close the door behind him, content with leaving the 'conversation' as it was, until Vegeta put in his final word.

"You should have taken up my offer, boy," the speaker box snarled. "You sicken me almost as much as your clown of a father."

Had anyone else said such a thing about Gohan's father, the teen would have boiled over with a seething rage. He would have doubtlessly kept it to himself as best he could manage, but his fury would have eventually resulted in one less mountain on the planet and one more crater. But, of course, Gohan _knew _Vegeta; he _knew_ that the Saiyan Prince was still upset at the loss of his greatest rival six years ago, and that the man could only express his true feelings through harsh words…or harsh fists. And so he let it be. Behind the front he tried to put up, those who really knew the Saiyan Prince knew that Vegeta truly respected the Earthling Saiyan known as Son Goku. Gohan just wished he could show it a little more.

With a sigh, the teen shut the door behind him. Despite being in the house, it was still _far_ too early for any of the Briefs to be awake. Gohan looked down at his little brother, who returned his gaze with his usual, cheery grin. _'I'm sure no one will mind if we…'_ Gohan rubbed his chin thoughtfully, staring off in the general direction of the kitchen. "Say, Goten…What do you think? Does a second breakfast sound good?"

Gohan turned to his little brother for his reaction. The child gave him an even wider and more excited grin. With a mutual exchange of simultaneous nods, the Son Brothers took off for the Brief Family Kitchen, charged with waging an all out war between them and the food for which they so hungered.

By the end of the hour, the Briefs' kitchen counters were littered with plates of Gohan's cooking. Despite not being quite as skilled as his mother, the eldest Son was most definitely handy in front of a stove. He glanced over at his brother, who was gluttonously devouring anything and everything that he could grab with his tiny hands. Gohan was a picture of the complete opposite, nursing his own food gingerly. He felt uncharacteristically hungry that hour despite his motivations for entering the kitchen in the first place. Maybe he really _was _upset over what Vegeta had said. The teenager rubbed his forehead, perturbed and perplexed. Rather than dwell on it, he instead glanced at and around his surroundings in search of anything of remote interest. A pile of magazines lying atop the counter nearby his seat seemed to catch his attention well enough.

On the very top was a profile from the latest _Forkes _magazine on the illustrious Brief Family. It described the history of the Capsule Corporation's current CEO, Dr. Bocsa Brief, and how he built the most influential and profitable company in the world from what was once his little garage in West City almost 40 years ago. Since then, that garage has become the center of the Brief Estate and the Capsule Corporation itself, with his modest home (in comparison to the homes of most multi-billionaires) and the various labs and offices of the company built around it. There were other profiles included that featured his wife and world famous zoologist and microbiologist Dr. Panchi Brief and her accomplishments in the field of virology (as well as her impressive collection of pets), his eldest daughter and popular science-fiction author Tights, and his youngest daughter and the current head researcher and lead engineer of the company Bulma (who is speculated to be taking over the company sometime within the next few years).

While that was very interesting, it was the _Z-Weekly_ magazine just beneath that captured Gohan's attention. A glimpse of familiar flame-like hair was all it took for Gohan to want to slide the _Forkes_ over so that he could get a better look. The cover featured a picture of Vegeta wearing his trademarked scowl, reaching out toward the reader menacingly. Bulma was behind him, firmly tugging his arm away to no avail. Gohan chuckled quietly to himself as he read the emboldened tagline at the bottom.

"**BADDEST MAN ON THE PLANET DOES IT AGAIN! OVER 9000 CAMERAS DESTROYED YET!**"

Just next to the tagline was a smaller picture of the remains of the poor photographer's camera – crushed into a grotesque ball of polymers as if it were made of paper. He took a bite of the sandwich in one hand as the other opened up the celebrity gossip magazine to the small column on Vegeta, the so-called "_Baddest_ _Man on the Planet_." The piece was some general stuff – tidbits of speculation on the man's origins, the marriage with Bulma Brief that seemed to come from nowhere, and how he greatly disliked having his photograph taken without permission. In fact, he so disliked unwarranted and unsolicited photography that he made it a personal point to crush any foolishly brave paparazzo's expensive camera between his bare hands – a display of strength that baffled the public to no end.

"It's like that with almost any outing with the man – honestly," said a familiar voice, pulling Gohan's attention from the magazine and back to the kitchen. Standing in the doorway of the kitchen, dressed in a lazy and loose-fitting set of pajamas, was none other than Bulma Brief herself. She must have noticed Gohan's interest in the _Z-Weekly _piece on her husband. Bulma yawned, tiredly stretching her arms up to the ceiling and standing on her toes. "You're here early," she commented as she set herself down on the counter to grab a bite to eat.

"Sorry about that…We took the Nimbus here, so I thought that it would be best if we left early," he explained, gently scratching his sideburn with his index finger. He watched the blue-haired beauty as she took in another mouthful of the food before her. "I guess I just forgot about the time difference."

Bulma waved her hand at his apology, still chewing her food. She swallowed. "Don't even worry about it, Gohan. You guys are welcome here anytime. Besides – you _did_ make breakfast." Bulma smiled at the teen before turning her head and setting her gaze upon Goten. "And I'm sure Trunks would just _love _the idea of having Goten and you over for a few more hours."

As if right on cue, a loud, violent, and rapid succession of thumping sounded above them. It wasn't too long before a lavender-haired child ran wildly into the kitchen. He glanced around, locking eyes with his mother, Gohan, and Goten. "Gohan! Goten! Hey guys! Long time, no see!" he shouted, waving excitedly at his close friends. The seven-year-old then caught a whiff of the great stacks of food on his kitchen counter, and, instead of greeting the Son Brothers properly, Trunks seized as many plates as he could and found a satisfactory seat between his mother and Goten.

As the two children engrossed themselves in their respective meals, Bulma shot Gohan a knowing smirk. Gohan looked back at her quizzically, unsure of the reason she would look at him in such a way. He raised an eyebrow, asking her, "What's the matter, Bulma?"

"You know…" she replied, not seeming to answer his question, "You're really lucky that the only people who happen to watch the news in our little family are Yamcha and me…"

Still without a clue as to what she could be referring, Gohan only tilted his head to the side. _'The news?'_ he thought. _'I mean, I guess the only ones in the gang who would be invested in the news would be Yamcha and Bulma; they're the only two really involved with society and all. But what does that have to do with me?'_

Seeing her vague little leads go nowhere, Bulma went for another. "So I heard that you're going to high school in a couple weeks, Gohan?" she asked, appearing to change the subject. Gohan slowly nodded his head – wary of whatever it was the genius was thinking. She continued in a whisper, still smirking, "Are you going to dress like Piccolo for that, too, _Demon Jr._?"

If there were any food or drink in his mouth, Gohan would have surely performed a perfect (and messy) spit-take. _'How the…?'_ he asked, feeling helplessly exposed. "Um…no?" he answered, wincing as one of his oldest friends burst out in a fit of giggles upon hearing his response. Trunks and Goten momentarily stopped their chew-attack as they stared at Trunks' mother struggle to breathe. Of course, after the moment passed and Bulma regained her composure, the boys promptly resumed their eating. "How…how did you find out?" asked Gohan in a worried whisper, leaning over the counter anxiously.

"Relax, kiddo!" she said in an attempt to sound reassuring. Bulma took a few deep breaths before explaining to Gohan exactly how she had so easily deduced his tournament alias. "That name has been _all over_ the internet this past week!" she whispered, leaning over the counter herself towards Gohan. "Clips of the fighting, too. And there are only two people on this planet who would dress like _that_. I sure didn't see any green skin, so it's obviously you."

"…Do the others know?" asked Gohan with some degree of hesitance. To his relief, Bulma shook her head.

"Like I said – only Yamcha and I bother to watch the news. He called me about it the other day. I'm not sure why you would want to fight in a tournament, but I trust that you had your reasons."

Gohan smiled at her, offering silent gratitude for her understanding. He would rather avoid talking about the matter anyhow. Bulma simply nodded in response before opening up her mouth for one more question. Goten and Trunks had just finished their meals and run off somewhere upstairs to play, so she returned to normal speaking volume.

"So I heard you're supposed to fight in the Rising Sun Tournament tomorrow, right?"

This time, Gohan _did_ have a bit of food in his mouth as she sprung the question. However, rather than spit-take, the poor boy swallowed his food too quickly and nearly choked on his second breakfast. After a long ten seconds of coughing and hacking, Gohan finally managed to ask, "What do you mean?"

"That's the rumor that was flying around the net the whole week. Everyone's pretty excited for it. I'm sure you'll knock 'em dead, kiddo!"

* * *

><p><strong>The Writer's Block:<strong>

_And so, the tournaments return to the story. I also decided on Sharpner's last name: Sharpner Scheffings. If you can guess the wordplay there, kudos to you! Thanks to __**WindFoxST**__ (who sent me his name idea via PM), __**Captured Moon**__, __**Noip13**__, __**Antroopos**__, and __**Coli Chibi**__ for submitting name ideas. Fun fact: I came up with this one while emptying my pencil sharpener after some work being done for the next art upload (coming with the tenth chapter)._

_One thing I would like to point out is "real world references" within the story. For example, I used a capital 'World-class' in the last chapter. That was supposed to be an allusion to 'Olympic-size,' but I failed to point out that very vague indication. I like to make the distinction that this Earth of the _Dragon Ball Z_ world is very different than our own Earth (and that's _after_ you ignore all the obvious stuff), so they wouldn't call the 'Olympic Games' the 'Olympic Games,' considering there were no Ancient Greeks to call them as such. Instead, they are the 'World Games' and…Well, it's basically the same event under a different name. With any future real world references, I'll be sure to add in a note for the "Writer's Block" so that it's a little clearer. Thanks to __**Noip13**__ for bringing this to my attention! Other real world references in this chapter are _Forbes_, and _Us Weekly_, but those ones are rather obvious. **EDIT: Exgo **pointed out that there was one reference to what the "Dragon World" refers to as "the Olympics" in _Dragon Ball_, when Krillin does a 100 meter dash. That means there is something called an Olympics in canon, and I have since changed the last chapter to accommodate the information. Thanks again!_

_The good news? __**This story reached over 12,000 views and 4,000 visitors!**__ And not even half of them are from me! Oh, and Bulma's introduction into the story finally happened! And Vegeta's…sort of. I really don't have much more to say than that, so I'll just be moving on to questions._

_**chris **__asked about Videl, or, rather, the reason why she came off as obsessive and how she will be portrayed in the story. Like I said before, it's not my intention to make Videl a super-stalker. She's tenacious, but she'll know when it's time to shelve a dead case. I didn't get too much into that in this chapter, but I will be addressing that concern in the very near future!_

_**strangebloke **__expressed concern over whether or not future chapters will be rehashing the show or concepts found in other stories. For those with a similar concern, I'm doing my best to think of how to include Orange Star High without treading the beaten path of most high school-based stories. No doubt, there will be some parallels drawn between this story and canon for some situations, but I hope it will be spun in a new and interesting way (much like the way I redid the bank robbery from canon in the second chapter)._

_Thanks to everyone for adding this to your Following List, your Favorites List, and for just plain reading! It's still a little strange seeing how popular this story became in a single month. Feel free to leave a review and let me know what you think! I'm particularly interested in what you think of my characterization of Vegeta, however brief his part was. I figure that if you can imagine him actually saying what I wrote, then I must have done something right. Haha._

_Sorry if any readers were confused by the non-chronological story telling in this chapter. I felt like going back a day told a better story here than going with the chronological order. This won't happen too often, I hope, unless the story "demands" it._

_~smashbangfusion_


	9. Strike One, Strike Two, and Strike Three

**Demon Hunt: Chapter 9 – Strike One, Strike Two, and Strike Three**

_July 31__st__, Age 773. Red Sun City. Rising Sun Temple._

It was time for the opening round to begin. Videl watched closely as a man in a black suit and tie, wearing a white armband bearing the Waves and Rocks logo and the Satan Entertainment badge stood in the center of the ring with a microphone in hand. He cleared his throat before bringing the wireless microphone a safe distance to his chin.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" he exclaimed, halting the cacophonous roaring of the crowd and bringing everyone's eyes on stage. "Welcome to the Rising Sun Tournament! We have now finished the qualifying rounds and are proceeding to the main event!"

He waited as the audience cheered.

"For the first match of the opening round, allow me to present to you…Filla!" he shouted into the microphone, gesturing towards a dark-skinned man with hair clipped so short that he was practically bald. Filla entered the ring wearing the martial arts robes typical of a Satan School student, his barrel-chested physique put out on display for the crowd.

The announcer gestured to another fighter. "And…Carectas!"

Another man, similarly built to Filla, but with slicked-back brown hair and lighter skin walked onto the stage as the crowd applauded them both. He, too, donned the Satan School robes. While he stood only up to Filla's chin, he did not seem daunted in the slightest; rather, he was likewise radiating with confidence. They met in the center and shook hands, though neither seemed too friendly with the gesture. A way of measuring up, perhaps? Sharpner often tried something similar with other fighters before a match to psyche them out or tease them. Squeeze the hand hard enough, see if the other guy squeezes back. Videl surmised that these two were probably doing that very same thing.

Both of them seemed strong, going by appearances, but Videl wanted to see how they fought before she made some premature assumption. After all, if an intimidating physique was all it took to win a martial arts bout, Videl would lose every time. She was short and lightweight. Discounting her intense glower in the face of criminals (or people she wanted to get off her back, in general) or her reputation as Mr. Satan's daughter and a powerful fighter in her own right, Videl was not an intimidating looking person.

With the announcer's signal, the match begun. Carectas launched his opening attack – a Dynamite Kick straight to Filla's face. Filla dodged the attack early, putting himself well out of Carectas' reach. He brought up his fists into protective positions and charged at his opponent. Following suit, Carectas lowered himself into a fighting stance as well. The announcer was doing well to keep the crowd up to speed in the midst of the battle.

"And after dodging and deflecting another flurry of intense kicks, Filla manages to make contact with Carectas!" the announcer exclaimed.

Just as the announcer described, Filla's right fist dug deep into Carectas' left ribs, stunning the other fighter for a brief moment. However, Filla seemed satisfied with that or must have wanted to drag the fight on longer because he failed to follow up on his opportunity in time. Or maybe he thought he could dig his fist even deeper into Carectas' body? Videl decided that, either way, neither of these fighters could hope to match up to her, let alone Demon Jr. That much was transparently clear.

"How you liking the match so far, babe?" asked Sharpner, his arms crossed over his chest. Videl's brow creased as she turned her head to the boy inching closer to her side once again. With that single look, Sharpner abandoned his game and scooted back to his original position. Satisfied, Videl turned her head back to the stage and answered her blonde companion's question.

"Match is fine," she replied, curt. Videl crossed her legs and leaned back into her seat. "I just want to get to the main reason we're here."

"Right. You wanted to see that 'demon' guy again," Sharpner stated, keeping his attention on Videl. "Don't know why, but whatever."

Videl paused. Why _was_ she pursuing this? Because he was strong? That intrigued her, but she can work hard to surpass that kind of strength on her own, she was sure. Because he interfered in a bank robbery? Videl knew that if his goal were to be a vigilante of some sort, she could find him at a crime one day or another and arrest him there. Why was she willing to travel out to Red Sun City to chase Demon Jr.?

"It's because –! …I don't know," she replied, narrowing her eyes. "Maybe it's complicated. Or maybe it's really stupid." Videl heaved a sigh. "For the first few days since the tournament, I thought I could catch him. Then, one metaphorical speed bump or roadblock after another and the case is cold. Except, being grounded, there was literally nothing left for me to do but dwell on it. It's just…I don't like giving up just because something is so…incredibly frustrating. You gave me a lead when I was just about ready to shelve it, so I guess that's why I'm here."

"Hmm," he responded, and that was all Sharpner offered for that moment. Another comfortable silence passed as they returned their attention to the match. Carectas faked a straight left hand to Filla's face, making the other fighter freeze for a second. Using the opportunity, Carectas drove his elbow into Filla's gut. Filla stopped and absorbed most of the impact by catching Carectas' elbow in his hands and planting his feet. Filla reached up Carectas' arm and pulled their torsos close together. With a mighty effort, he hurled Carectas over his shoulder in a devastating suplex. Filla took a step back as the announcer began the count.

"You know," Sharpner began, bringing Videl's attention back, "I think you're right." Videl shot him a quizzical look. He turned to her and smirked. "Your reason for being here – it's _really_ stupid."

Videl was about ready to punch him again.

"You better hope you have a good follow up to that, buddy."

"You're stubborn."

"And?"

"And that's it."

"That's _it_?"

"Mm-hmm."

She punched him. He could have easily deflected it – thrown from a sitting position, it was hardly her most _effective _punch – but he instead let it fly into his shoulder. He gripped his arm tenderly, making a pained expression on his face.

"Moron," Videl said, crossing her arms over her chest.

They both turned their attention back to the ring as the announcer declared Filla the victor of the first match. _'Five more minutes until the next one,' _thought Videl, leaning forward in her seat. _'There's no way of telling whether or not Demon Jr. will be here until every fighter has been out at least once. No jumbo television screen to let us see the tourney brackets and names either. I might be here a while…'_

* * *

><p>The crowd was still cheering from the results of the match. She hadn't been paying as much attention as some of the other spectators, but she could agree that it was, indeed, an entertaining bout. Neither was up to her level, but either could definitely give her a decent spar. She was ready to applaud the fighters' efforts as well when she heard a very <em>disappointed<em> groan from behind her. She couldn't help but turn around to see what it was.

"Oh, man," said the origin of the groan. "I can't believe _this_ is what fighting has come to!"

Behind her was a tall man with some distinguishing scars on his face. He wore a yellow sport coat and a low-cut white shirt underneath showing off a hairless but very well defined chest, tucked into his slim-fit blue jeans and belt. His face, thought bearing some significant scars, was in no way unattractive. If anything, the scars gave him a sort of 'bad-boy' look that some girls loved. And his age was so hard to gauge – one of those types that were perpetually in his thirties. In short, he possessed a very modern fashion, male model-esque look that did not match her conceptions of what a martial artist looked like. Too pretty, too well-dressed. Neither a fan nor a serious martial artist.

'_So, who do you think you are, saying those things?'_ she thought, almost glaring at him. _'Sure, those guys weren't the best around, but they were _good _and they fought their best. And everyone else seemed to love it!'_

The other guy – what was his name? The one from the tournament in the backstage corridors – he confessed to being a martial arts fan. He looked the type. Skinny, boyish, nerdy…one of those guys who grew up idolizing stronger men, no doubt. It was understandable that he had some fundamental grasp of the art, so she accepted a little of his views on the current state of martial arts. This person behind her didn't fit that profile at all. _'So,'_ she reiterated in her mind, _'Who do you think you are, saying those things?'_

Videl turned back around, expecting the next match to start soon, but caught Sharpner also staring at the man sitting behind her. He wore an awed look on his face – something he didn't do very often unless he saw something he could really get excited about. She might have seen a similar look on him before, when he had first met her father some years ago, only this wasn't quite _that_ excited.

"Mister Hō!" he exclaimed, nearly jumping out of his seat. The scar-faced man looked over the two teens, his gaze landing on the blonde who called out his name. With a smile, he held his hand up in a sign of resignation.

"Guilty as charged."

"I'm sorry – who?" asked Videl, a brow raised.

"Mister Hō," Sharpner repeated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Videl only returned his answer with a questioning look. He elaborated, "Hō Yamcha, otherwise known as 'Mister Hō,' professionally. He's a Westwood actor and male model. One of the best stuntmen in Westwood, actually."

This didn't help Videl at all. Sharpner shook his head. He probably realized it, too. Videl wasn't the type to go out and watch movies – at least not for the past few years. Too busy training or working with the police to just be sitting around for a couple of hours, she said.

"He also played third base for the West City Titans," he supplied. "Used to be a baseball legend. He batted clean-up?"

"Oh, that was a long time ago," Yamcha laughed. "They kicked me out after leaving in the middle of a game one too many times. Blamed me for losing the World League that one time, too."

"Yeah. My father won a lot of money thanks to you leaving that game," Sharpner said.

"Well, I'm glad it worked out for someone – it practically cost me my life!"

They laughed, but Yamcha's laugh seemed to have a bit more irony in it for some reason. Videl couldn't place exactly why.

Still, she was able to remember being taken to more than a few Titans games when she was a child. Almost thirteen years ago, maybe? Her family was living in West City back then – before her father moved them out to Celestial County to start his school. The Satan Family wasn't quite famous yet those days. It was difficult to remember things that happened when she was only three-years-old, but bits and pieces were coming together. She was four when she saw him walk off the field in the middle of a game, following some short, bald man.

Well, to be fair, the game devolved into a backyard brawl before he actually left.

"Wait, I remember _that_," she said, turning to Yamcha, "But you used to be a really reliable player your first year. And that first time you left, the World League was already over thanks to that fight. What happened that made you change so much afterwards?"

"Some of my friends were in trouble that first World League. I haven't seen some of them in years, and, like you said, the game was already over. It was an opportunity to catch up. After that, I realized that I loved spending time with my friends more than I did the game. I don't know."

Videl nodded. A part of her understood; despite her love and dedication to fighting, she had always put aside some time for Erasa and Sharpner…or she at least _tried_. But people relied on her to work with the police. She couldn't put that aside – not when she has the ability to make a difference. She wondered if the opposite was true for Yamcha; maybe he loved his friends so much that he put aside his responsibilities to his team just to be with them. _'But…it's not like winning the World League is as important as working to save lives and put bad guys down anyway.'_

"So what brings you out to Red Sun City, Mister Hō?" asked Sharpner. "Can't be for this tournament, right? I mean, it's a pretty small-scale competition compared to what they have in the Capital Cities or the other major cities."

"Ah, yeah…I came here looking for a friend. Thought he'd be competing, but I'm not so sure anymore. Haven't been able to get in touch."

"What, he doesn't have a _phone_?" Sharpner asked, his tone hinting at sarcasm. Yamcha shook his head. Sharpner tilted his head to Videl, a smug gaze meeting her neutral one. "Sounds like your kind of guy, Videl."

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever," replied the raven-haired teen, rolling her eyes. She turned to Yamcha. "If he's competing, you just have to wait until the end of the eighth match to make sure. Only way you see all the competitors here, I guess…barring a little trespassing into the back, anyway. But that's not going to happen."

Yamcha smiled and shrugged. "I…usually have a pretty good sense of whether or not my friends are around. I don't think he's here, and I'm not really willing to sit through this to find out," he replied casually. "I promised my girlfriend and her sister that I'd buy them some souvenirs from Red Sun City while I'm here, so I might as well do it now."

"Aww, and I just got back!" whined a tiny voice from behind Videl and Sharpner. They turned around and were startled to find themselves face to face with a floating bucket of snacks. "Yamcha, are you sure he's not around?" asked the bucket.

Yamcha picked up the bucket, revealing a floating blue cat to be the true origin of the voice. The two teens grew a shade pinker with the revelation that the "magic, talking bucket" was nothing more than a regular, floating blue cat.

"Yeah; sorry about that, Puar. We'll just see him around some other time, I guess," sighed Yamcha, holding the bucket firmly between his hands. He seemed distracted by something for a split-second. Almost frozen. As if he were searching for something that no one else could see, hear, or feel. He snapped out of it, and Videl noted that a little bit of excitement sparked up in his eyes. "You know, I think he's actually in the city, Puar. If we leave now, we can catch up to him."

The blue cat nodded. Yamcha and Puar were about to leave when Videl's voice stopped them.

"How do you know?" she asked, crossing her arms over her chest. The scar-faced man and the blue cat turned around to face the girl addressing them. When they didn't answer, she specified the question. "You said you couldn't contact him. How did you know he was in the city?"

Yamcha hesitated before saying something. "Well, um…why does it matter?"

She glared. "You were being kind of rude. You interact with us, but don't ask for our names, and then you just make up some excuse like you _think_ your friend is somewhere in this city and you can just find him without making some sort of contact? Sorry, but I don't believe you."

"I guess I…just doubt we'll ever see each other again. Not like I'll ever use your names for something. No offense. And, like I said, I just have a pretty good sense of when my friends are around. I mean, you kind of do, too."

She shot him a questioning look. He continued.

"Okay, what are your names?"

"Sharpner."

"…Videl."

"Okay, so, Sharpner, you were trying to get closer to Videl inch by inch during the first fight. And Videl didn't even have to look at you to notice. When you got too close, she could tell, and she just had to do something to make you back off. Am I wrong?"

Videl glanced back at the ring. The announcer was just about to start the second match. After a minute, she answered Yamcha's question. "No."

"Well, okay. Same kind of thing, just on a bigger scale – if you can believe it." The scar-faced man thought for a short period. He handed Sharpner and Videl the bucket of snacks as an apologetic offering. "You can have this, if you want. Sorry if I seemed rude or arrogant by not asking your names when we talked; I don't meet new people very often. My bad, guys. Seriously."

The teen girl shrugged. She pushed the bucket into Sharpner's arms. "It's fine, Mister Hō." She paused. _'I don't actually believe you, but at least you apologized.'_ Videl still had one more issue bothering her. "Before you go, I'm curious. Why did you seem so disappointed in the first match?"

"Hmm? Oh." It took him a while before he could figure out what to say. "Both of them used that one style. The one that's really popular. Satan School, I think? I see a lot of that when I turn on a television or talk to a rookie stunt performer or new action star. Rare to see anyone use something else. It's making martial arts boring. I mean…It's sad."

_It's sad_. She immediately thought of that boy from the Satan City Tournament. Two _different_ people saying the _same_ thing about martial arts because of the Satan School. Maybe they knew each other? Or maybe not. It wasn't worth pursuing anyway. "What makes you think like that?" she asked.

"I used to fight back when I was a teenager, up until my mid-twenties. Made it to the main events of the WMAT three times in a row. I loved it, but I…was never as good as my other friends. Had to pay the bills somehow, so I switched to sports, then movies."

It was surprising, to say the least, that a Westwood pretty boy was once a serious competitor back in the day. The fight records of the WMATs from 20 years ago were lost in the events that led to the second King Piccolo War, so she just had to take his word for it, but even so, something in the way he talked about martial arts seemed genuine. It was enough for her to trust _that_ admission, at least.

She nodded, and Yamcha and Puar took that as a sign to leave.

* * *

><p>The eighth match of the opening round. This was it – Demon Jr. <em>had<em> to be fighting in this one. _'Or…this whole trip was a waste of time,'_ mused Videl, half-bitter. The announcer held the microphone up to his mouth. The crowd waited eagerly for what he was going to say.

"This is it, folks! The eighth match! Who will move on to the next round? Rocket Li?" he gestured toward the small, but muscular eastern man with short, dark hair. The crowd cheered his name. "Or will it be…Demon Jr.?!"

Videl tensed in her seat, anxiously anticipating the appearance of the masked fighter. In the Satan City competition, he appeared from the dark shadows away from the spotlights and spent as little time in front of a camera as he possibly could. _'This is…'_

She watched as the turbaned man in the mask stepped out of the back area of the temple and slowly made his way toward the fighting ring. Same build, height. _'Is he skinnier than before? Hard to tell with those lean-body types at this distance…'_

She sighed. _'This is…not the same person from last week.'_

Waste of time, like she thought. Or so she suspected. Gait was different. The fighter from last week kept a brisk pace. Efficient, like his fighting style. Or he didn't want to be watched for too long. This one savored each step into the ring. He saw how people were excited and awed by him, and he reveled in it. Or…maybe it was just his ego from becoming an international celebrity overnight?

"So? Videl, you excited to see this guy fight?" asked Sharpner. She thought.

'_If he fights, will that answer my question? Is he the same person from last week?'_

Videl nodded her head slowly, keeping her eyes fixed on the ring.

'_Gait's all wrong. Strike one.'_

His fighting stance. Satan School. Was he taking her father's advice? Making himself a better fighter by picking up the Invincible Style? Doubtful, but a possibility. Still, Videl learned a long time ago that you don't abandon your ways until they start to fail you. Did his own fighting style not measure up to his needs? _She _thought his methods were good. Why the change?

The announcer signaled for the match to begin. In an instant, Demon Jr. charged toward Rocket Li at full speed, catching the other fighter by surprise. The masked fighter sent powerful roundhouse kick straight into Li's jawline, sending the unprepared fighter to the floor. Warily, Rocket Li picks himself off the floor and shakes his head.

"Whoa! And an aggressive start from Demon Jr. puts Rocket Li on the floor! He got right back up, but will he be able to continue?"

'_Start is out of character for him. Strike two.'_

"Didn't think the masked guy had it in him to pull a move like that," commented Sharpner, watching the match almost as closely as Videl. She didn't fail to notice how he kept glancing at her to gauge her reactions to the fight. He probably picked up on her suspicions. "It feels…different. Like, with his power, you'd think he would have knocked him out then and there. But he couldn't. Maybe that's why he relies on ring outs?"

"No. Ring outs are the quickest and most efficient way to eliminate the competition. Demon Jr. is all about efficiency. You saw it in his fighting last time, right?"

"Another quick and efficient way to eliminate the competition is to knock them out the second the match begins," Sharpener pointed out. "Take 'em by surprise. Make sure they don't see what hit 'em."

Rocket Li lowered himself into a fighting stance and advanced toward the masked fighter. He shot his leading leg forward several times in a flurry of kicks, sending Demon Jr. on the retreat. Videl noted that Rocket Li was a decent fighter, but nowhere near the level at which she could fight. It should stand to reason that Demon Jr. could have taken him down easily. So why didn't he? He was dodging the attacks, but they lacked the fluidity and grace of the fighter from the week before. He was doing his job of leading Rocket Li to the edge of the ring, but it felt so…wrong.

'_Sloppy, wasteful dodging. Strike three. You're out.'_

Just as Videl said it in her mind, Rocket Li landed a critical blow. His leading leg found a clean target in the masked fighter's sternum, sending Demon Jr. flying out of the ring. The audience was stunned. The announcer gripped his microphone firmly and announced the winner.

"Rocket Li is advancing to the next round! Please stand by while we allow our fighters a short break before we begin the quarterfinals!"

"Sharpner. Tell me honestly – was that the same person who beat you?" Videl glanced at her friend. He seemed to be deep in thought. His brow was creased, his arms propped up by the elbows on his knees, and his fingers folded among themselves in a prayer-like gesture, kissing his lips.

"No," he answered after a moment. "And I'm not just saying that because it would be embarrassing to say that some punk who couldn't win a tournament of this level could beat _me_. The guy I fought was good. This guy…wasn't."

Videl nodded. "An imposter, I think."

She clenched her fists tightly. Her nails were digging deep into the skin of her palms. _'This person just wasted my entire day! Damn it!'_

She watched as the imposter made his way back to the 'Fighters Only' section of the temple. Videl stood up, grasping Sharpner by the forearm and pulling him up with her.

"Go call Erasa and tell her to meet us at the temple gates," she commanded, pushing him toward the exit.

"What? Why?" he protested.

"…I'm done with this, Sharpner," she confessed. "I spent a week agonizing over this because of my stupid pride, and I'm not going to stress over this person any longer. I could chase over a thousand demons in over a thousand tournaments and still not get a lead. It's done. I have more important things to do."

He didn't have anything to say to that. He simply nodded and listened, pulling out his cell phone and dialing Erasa's number. Neither of them said anything else after that, making their way silently towards the gates.

"…So is this the part where I hug you, or what?"

She punched him.

"Shut up."

* * *

><p><strong>The Writer's Block:<strong>

_This week's chapter was very "Videl-heavy" and "Gohan-light." Actually, I feel like it's been that way for the past few chapters. Gohan's already gotten most of what he wants out of this first part, but Videl hasn't quite reached that point yet. So these few chapters leading up to the second part of the story (the long-awaited "high school arc") are focused on wrapping up the development of Videl. Not completely, mind you, but enough so that she can move on to other pursuits when the summer ends._

_Real world references: 'Rocket Li' – Jet Li. 'Westwood' – Hollywood. 'World League' – Major League Baseball, World Series (This one was actually in the television show!).  
><em>

_**Blade of Justice**__ and __**strangebloke**__ both brought up the whole "dinosaurs and talking animal people" from _Dragon Ball _and whether or not I'm going to address that peculiarity in the story. The short answer is "no." I'm not ignoring their existence, and some might be involved if I ever decide to include one, but, as best I know, dinosaurs and animal people are accepted and unquestioned parts of their world. If Earthling humans don't think it's weird to have them around, I see no reason to make any character think too seriously about it._

_**TheNargana**__ asked if Hercule will learn whether or not Demon Jr. is the same "delivery boy" from the Cell Games. I don't think he will. I don't think this story will go so far as Mr. Satan learning of Gohan's history. I don't even think Videl will be getting the whole picture by the end. I don't actually know how _much_ of the Cell Games I will be writing about in the story because it will probably be used to frame the backgrounds of the characters than being the core of the story anyway._

_As always, thanks for your reviews, your favorites, your follows…I'm getting incredibly close to the "200-mark" in the number of followers of this story – pretty exciting! Additionally, I'm on a short break from school thanks to the particular season, so I expect good things. Maybe not more frequent updates, but I'm working on the story cover of the second part of the story. Please feel free to leave a review!_

_~smashbangfusion_


	10. Summer's End

**Demon Hunt: Chapter 10 – Obsessions, Confessions, and Summer's End**

_July 31__st__, Age 773. Red Sun City._

Someone out there was using his name. _Piccolo's_ name. _'That's just wrong,'_ thought Gohan as he dropped out of the sky. He touched down silently into an abandoned alleyway on a quiet Red Sun City street somewhere in the outer limits of the city. Glancing at his watch, the half-Saiyan sighed.

'_It's about half-past 3. I hope it's not too late to stop this guy…'_

The streets were quiet and empty enough for him to make an inhuman dash for most of the way. The wind beat against his face as he followed the signs towards Temple Avenue at a velocity rivaling that of a bullet hot from the chamber of a gun. He was focused on one thing – finding out who would sign up in _his _name. It was unacceptable.

Gohan expanded his energy-sensing ability in order to foresee any large group of people before he encountered them. The boy slowed himself to a normal jogging speed before rounding the next turn, sensing some people nearby. They were gathered around the various stands, kiosks, and shops, buying whatever Red Sun City souvenir tickled their fancy.

'_The temple must be nearby…'_ he mused silently, further slowing his jog to an inconspicuous walk. Gently pushing himself through the packs of people, Gohan thought back to the previous day. Bulma had told him that he would be participating in the Rising Sun Tournament. The only problem was that _he _never announced such a thing.

"_Bulma, I think you're mistaken…" he protested weakly. "I'm _not_ participating in any more tournaments. I have what I needed; there's no more point to it."  
><em>

"_Well, if you say so, kiddo," she replied, running a hand through her morning mess of blue hair. "If that's the case, then you should probably check out the tournament anyway. It couldn't hurt, and you can find out what's happening. Might be an imposter…or a publicity stunt to get some attention."_

"_Right," agreed Gohan. "Is anyone we know going to be there?"_

"_Yamcha said he was going to go since he thought you were going."_

"_You should probably tell him that I'm not participating. I wouldn't want to waste his time over nothing."_

"_Yeah, well…um…" Bulma began to laugh, almost as if she were embarrassed. "When we heard he was going to Red Sun City, I made him promise to buy Tights and me some souvenirs. Tights, for obvious reasons, and me…Well, Vegeta isn't the type to just spontaneously buy me something, so I figure I might as well take advantage of Yamcha's generosity while I can."_

"_Uh…whatever you say, Bulma. You're saying you don't want to tell him?"_

It was an odd situation, sure, but apparently it was an exercise for Yamcha's benefit. It had been a while since Yamcha was in a serious relationship, and, even though Gohan didn't necessarily understand it, he could tell that it was important (to Bulma, at least) that Yamcha was well within Tights' good graces. _'Is that something that I have to think about when I have a girlfriend?' _he asked himself. _'My first semester is only two weeks away. I can hardly believe it…'_

"_I'm just saying that it's better that he only thinks that there's a _rumor _that you're showing up so he has an excuse to get out and surprise my sister with a gift," sighed Bulma, answering Gohan's question. "If he doesn't have a reason to get out of his house or take a day off of work, he's not going to do it. It's been so long since he's had a relationship with a woman that lasted more than the one night that he's become useless with this kind of stuff."_

'_Well it's not like I can just lie to his face if I run into him…' _thought Gohan unhappily, nearing the temple gates. Just as they came into view, a familiar blue cat called out his name.

"Gohan! Gohan!" shouted Puar, his little body bobbing up and down in midair as he floated to the adolescent. Gohan welcomed the little shape-shifter with a wide grin.

"Heya, Puar!" he greeted, jogging up to meet his friend halfway. "Long time, no see!"

Of course, Puar's presence here could only mean that a certain scar-faced _former_ bandit was nearby. Gohan glanced around and searched for his energy. Sure enough, Yamcha was on the approach. The Westwood star strode to Gohan with his arms open wide.

"Hey there, Gohan! How's it going?" he asked, holding his hand out to his young friend. Gohan reached out and gave Yamcha the half-shake, half-hug ever popular among men. "It's been a while."

"Really?" asked Gohan, laughing and sheepishly scratching the back of his head. "I guess it has been. What brings you out to Red Sun City?"

"I could ask you the same question," Yamcha replied, crossing his arms over his chest. "Aren't you supposed to be in the tournament right about now? You're more than an hour late for registration, you know?"

Gohan chuckled. "I didn't come to enter." He glanced up at Rising Sun Temple, standing tall atop the steps just ahead. "I actually came to investigate. If someone is using my name for some fifteen minutes of fame…" The teen sighed. There was an ineffable feeling of weight in his chest that had been bothering him since he heard from Bulma that someone may be trying to impersonate him. He glanced down at his shoes for a moment, thinking.

"It's not just my name being used out there, you know?" he explained to his scar-faced friend. "It's Piccolo's name. I…I don't know if it matters to Piccolo or not, but I just don't want anyone to disrespect or cheapen it. Whoever it is trying to be me…he doesn't have the right to use that name."

That indescribable feeling in his chest was suddenly a little less indescribable. _'Guilt,' _he observed in his introspective analysis. _'I'm feeling guilty. I'm the one who caught the attention of the world using Piccolo's name. I should be the one responsible for it. And I'm afraid it's going to be abused all over the world if I don't stop it here and now.'_

Gohan felt a firm hand on his shoulder. "Hey," said Yamcha in a consoling tone, "I get it, man; you respect your teacher." Yamcha gave him a single pat before sticking his thumbs in his pants pockets. "I just wish someone could have told me. Didn't want to come all the way out to Red Sun City for no reason. You know, you're here kind of late. The fake 'you' might have already gone up."

"What? Oh, man." Gohan glanced up to the temple once more. "I was watching Goten for most of the day until my mother came back from her errands and –"

"Hey, hey! No need to make excuses for my sake; just get up there, Gohan!"

"Thanks, Yamcha!" He ran past the Westwood star and shape-shifting cat up to the steps leading to the Rising Sun Temple. Gohan turned back, waving to his friends. "Don't forget to buy the souvenirs for Bulma and your girlfriend!"

"Whoa! How did you know about that, Gohan?" Yamcha called after him, surprised. It was all in vain, however, as the teen half-Saiyan was already halfway up the stairs. With a short chuckle, the Westwood star turned around and gestured for his floating, blue friend to follow him to the shopping districts.

As Gohan quickly stepped up the staircase, he focused his senses on the surrounding life energies. People were grouped together nearby, so he slowed his ascent to a normal stair-walking pace. The boy quietly slipped into the crowd.

It would take a few minutes before he reached the tournament grounds.

* * *

><p><em>Rising Sun Temple.<em>

"Hey."

Videl turned to the tall, muscle-bound young man who called her. His brow was furrowed; an almost concerned look painted his face. That same concern seemed to be present in his body language as well. They were walking together down the steps of the temple and his arms were folded over his chest. Strangely enough, the boy wasn't flexing or puffing anything out. Rather, he was simply tense. It was as if something in the atmosphere was making him uncomfortable.

"What is it, Sharpner?" asked Videl.

"You look like you're really messed up right now," he replied. "Like, what's bothering you?"

"No way; I'm not telling you," stated Videl, shooing Sharpner away and increasing her pace. "You are a terrible person to confide in."

"Aw, I can't be _that_ bad," he argued, shrugging his shoulders. "What's the worst that can happen if you talk to me, babe?"

"You wanna stop calling me that? I can't stop rolling my eyes when I hear it."

"I _love_ when you roll your eyes," he responded with a cocky grin. She held her fist up menacingly. "Kidding," Sharpner smiled, holding his hands up in a half-hearted gesture of surrender.

"I just felt like I _needed_ a victory today," she admitted. "All week…the stuff with my dad, with the police, being grounded and all…" It was the first time she had ever felt so frustrated with the way things were in her life. Sure, she may lead a comfortable living experience, but she had never been caught between so many dead ends at once. The police were blocking her from helping the public; her father was blocking her from having a normal life; and the _whole damn universe_ was blocking her from unmasking some stupid wannabe vigilante with (admittedly competent) martial arts ability. "I know that if I can just…make some headway with this 'Demon Jr.' crap, I'd be satisfied and willing to shelve it until something more solid develops. It'd be victory enough to help me move on to the more important things coming up."

Her confession left Sharpner silent for a little moment. He exhaled slowly, placing a hand on Videl's back. The action turned the petite, raven-haired girl around.

"You should go and talk to that faker guy back at the tournament," he suggested, jerking his thumb back toward the temple. "It might not give you much, but you'll have something to walk away with by the end of the day. Hell, go beat him up, if you have to."

Videl smirked. _'Just what is this guy saying?'_ she thought. With a little sigh, she decided to take his advice. She said that she needed _something_. Maybe a small victory against some imposter would be enough. Videl wasn't going to beat the poor kid up or anything like that, but she did want to find out why he would pretend to be someone else in the first place.

"Wise, Sharpner," Videl said with a little chuckle. "I sometimes forget that you're not a _total_ idiot somewhere deep down there," she joked, poking a finger up at his forehead. The blonde lightly swatted her hand away.

"Yeah, shut up. I'll wait for you with Erasa. Just don't take too long. Traffic may have cleared up on the way back to Satan City, but I still don't want to be stuck on the road any more than I have to."

"No problem. I'll be back before you know it!"

* * *

><p><em>Rising Sun Temple. Fighter Changing Rooms.<em>

Videl entered quietly. He was sitting on a bench on the other side of the room, digging into a duffle bag. Well, it wasn't _really _"him," she reminded herself. The fake with the similar purple gi bearing the Old World symbol for _"demon,"_ the turban, the mask…he even had those weird, leathery foot wrappings. Slowly, she approached.

"Hey, you."

He turned around and looked up at Videl, standing over him with her balled fists on her hips – the usual intimidating gesture she utilized during confrontations with common crooks. His mask slowly slid off his face, revealing a boy with dark green eyes. She could tell from his face that he couldn't have been older than fourteen or fifteen. The boy's pale skin seemed to glow in the dark changing room.

"What is it?" he asked, eyeing her for a second. His too obvious appraisal did not go unnoticed. Videl rolled her eyes.

'_Great. He's not only a fake, but he's also a pervert,' _she thought, stepping forward. "I know you're a fake," she stated. Videl waited, gauging his response.

"N-no…!" he protested, clambering to his feet and stepping back. The bench divided the space between him and Videl – a sort of mental barrier for the boy to grant him reprieve and a moment to gather his thoughts. "Look, I'm just having an 'off' day, alright? But I'm real! I'm real."

"Prove it…" she challenged, moving no closer to him. She stood her ground, rooting her feet into position to show just how unyielding she was to the boy. Videl knew why he stepped back; poor kid wanted to put as much space between them as possible. It was proof enough for her that her accusations were on point. Even so, an actual confession would be a satisfactory consolation prize for making the trip all the way out to Red Sun City. It would mean that the day wasn't a total waste of time.

The boy pinched the gi off his shoulders and flicked it at Videl a couple times, believing his disguise was reason enough to believe that he was, in fact, the _real _Demon Jr. Videl frowned.

"Yeah, you probably made that yourself. It doesn't look too hard to make something like that with the right materials and dyes," reasoned Videl, taking another step forward. "You're just some punk who thought he could get his time in the spotlight without actually embarrassing himself if he ended up losing."

The boy growled. "You don't know anything. I need to get changed, brat…so shoo."

Her leer sharpened at that. _'Brat?'_ she thought, gritting her teeth. _'Oh, that's real cute.' _Videl took a second to center herself before continuing.

"I'm going to let that slide because, hey, I'm a generous person," said Videl, taking another step forward. _'What's it going to take to make him talk?' _she asked herself. "And…I happen to be Mr. Satan's daughter, so I know a thing or two about martial arts…and when someone is being a faker."

The boy laughed. "You're Mr. Satan's daughter?" he asked, suddenly feeling a little more confident. "Yeah; good luck trying to prove _that_." The boy thumbed his nose before folding his arms over his chest. "And you're calling _me _the faker."

In that very instant, the Satan girl leaped forward and drove a flying fist straight into the metal locker door just behind the fake Demon Jr. With a powerful _CLANG_ that echoed throughout the changing room, the locker door folded painfully before the might of her punch. Her forearm was just centimeters away from the boy's face. Slowly, he turned around to inspect the damage.

He blanched – beads of nervous sweat collecting and subsequently dripping from his brow. He had no doubt that the tiny, yet powerful girl before him was indeed Miss Videl Satan – the strongest girl in the world. She smirked, knowing that her actions had an effect on the poor kid.

"Wh-what do you want me to do?" he asked, now feeling very cooperative. He slowly turned his head from the damaged locker to meet Videl's face. She wore a confident smirk that made his entire body shiver in fear of what she knew. He was transparent, and she could easily see that.

"How about a confession?" she asked. He nodded. "And maybe an apology?" He nodded again. "And how about you make it on stage where everyone can see and hear you? How about you confess and apologize before the next fight so that everyone can see how sorry you are for wasting their time?"

Maybe it seemed a little cruel to do to a stupid punk who made the silly mistake of trying to be someone he wasn't, but Videl couldn't care enough to think about how it would affect _him_. She always hated fakers – people going around wearing masks and trying to throw around their names without having earned the _weight_…something about it struck a nerve with her.

The boy shut his eyes tightly and shook his head furiously. When he stopped and looked at Videl, he was horrified to see the confident smirk had faded. Instead, he was face-to-face with a pair of eyes too cold and too sharp to belong to any girl in the world. They were the eyes of a true fighter – one who was willing to stand her ground until she couldn't stand any longer. He knew that there was no way out of this but to agree to her demands. He nodded, once and curtly.

"Good," she said with a smile, stepping back and giving him room to breathe. She pointed out at the doorway leading back to the stage. "Just tell the announcer that Videl Satan wants you to have a minute or two on the mike. Point back here and make sure he sees me. That should work things out. Got it?"

Another dumb nod. She took another step back and the boy scrambled away, tripping over the bench in the process. Without glancing back, he ran from Videl to the announcer in the middle of the fighting ring. Videl could see him speaking with the announcer in a rather frantic manner, pointing back at Videl just as she advised. The announcer nodded and handed the boy his microphone, granting him his few minutes to confess.

It was a small victory. Some small justice that was paid out to the people who wasted their time coming here, herself included. Videl felt accomplishment tugging at the corners of her lips, pulling them into a smile as she watched the boy address the crowd. She walked through the side area closest to the steps that would take her back to the main streets, back to her friends. It was enough. She heard him clearing his throat to speak.

"…Hello," he said into the microphone, his voice permeated with anxiety. "I registered in this tournament under the identity of 'Demon Jr.'…but I'm sorry to say that I am not that person."

Videl looked forward, effortlessly gliding through the crowds. She didn't even have to think about how or where she was moving because her skill was enough so that she didn't have to worry about clumsily bumping into anyone. Walking was a simple task, so she didn't need to devote much or any thought processes towards it. A part of her wished she could have that same state of mind in a fight – blank, pure, unhindered and graceful – but she was always taught to "expect the unexpected, the expected, and everything between." That was, of course, one of the many lessons in martial arts her father had once taught her.

She stole a quick glance to her side and noticed something interesting: an individual moving just as quickly and as gracefully as she in her opposite direction. In her split-second glance, she could only make out a crop of spiky black hair. And, just as the moment passed, he was gone. She stared off toward the temple, where the spiky-haired person was headed. The hair was familiar, she thought. But what had her perturbed was her heart. For a single moment…maybe less than a second, did it beat faster than normal? As if she was hoping to see someone.

But whom?

It didn't matter; she just wanted to meet with her friends and go home. School was starting in a couple of weeks. Now that she could finally put at least _some_ of this "demon hunt" business behind her, Videl felt just a little more excited for the coming semester. Hanging out with her friends, sharing experiences old and new…living her own normal life away from her father.

Videl took a deep breath and held it in for just a couple of seconds before exhaling.

She could hardly wait.

* * *

><p>Gohan glanced back, almost turning around completely. There was a presence he felt earlier, as he maneuvered his way through the dozens of packs of people making their way in and out of the temple. It was an oddly familiar energy…one that he must have felt sometime recently. He just couldn't quite place where. He shook his head to free himself of the thought.<p>

That wasn't why he was here at Rising Sun Temple.

"…I'm sorry. I just wanted to be famous. I wanted to be like Hercule, so I made a costume like Demon Jr. and entered this competition. My name is Marner Pasta, and I'm sorry that I lied to everyone here. I'm not the real Demon Jr., and I'm sorry to him that I stole his name."

Gohan froze. A confession? He hadn't even had to _do _anything, and this total stranger was already apologizing for doing wrong. It was…unexpected, considering his usual expectations of people. Like his father, he grew up with the belief that all people were good. Run-of-the-mill jerks would always be around, but he held steadfast to the belief that people were good at their core. Befriending Piccolo reaffirmed that ideal. Gohan learned that even someone who once claimed to be the Demon King reborn could have _some_ good within.

However, in recent years, he found that the good in normal people became harder and harder to find. Sure, there were some exceptions (Erasa, from his Orange Star High School tour, for example), but they were often few and far between. He still believed that people were good at their core, but it became harder every day to see it. Part of him sometimes wished he could throw his hands up in the air and say, _"To hell with it,"_ and let it all be, but the Son boy knew that such an idea was wrong. Gohan sometimes forgot, but he had a _responsibility _to protect the planet and its inhabitants – a responsibility his father entrusted to him six years ago. It wouldn't do him well _not _to believe in the core goodness of the world.

Witnessing this confession, this admission of guilt, of fault, delivered unconditionally (he believed) to a crowd of complete strangers whom this Marner owed absolutely nothing…It was a reaffirmation in his faith in people's goodness at heart.

Gohan watched as the boy handed back the microphone to the announcer and stepped off the stage. He had to say something to him…thank him somehow. Gohan slipped his way through the gathering crowd of magazine reporters and local paper journalists who were all clamoring to speak with the fake Demon Jr. It took him a little bit of effort to get through without hurting anyone or knocking someone over, but he managed it fine. Soon, the half-Saiyan was face-to-face with Marner Pasta, his unwitting doppelganger.

"What?" Marner asked, seeming rather impatient.

"Thank you," replied Gohan, a small, but friendly smile forming upon his face. The boy must have been a year or two younger, he observed.

"What?" repeated Marner. He pulled the turban from his head, revealing a slight mess of moist, patted-down auburn hair. Marner ruffled it a little, allowing it to breathe and form a more natural look.

"Thank you," Gohan repeated in turn. "You confessed to something when you didn't have to do so. I think you deserve to be thanked for that."

The boy was silent. It must have been a full minute before he opened his mouth in response.

"…Well, it wasn't something I wanted to do," he said, breaking eye-contact with Gohan. "More like something I _had _to do."

Gohan smiled. "I think I get it," the dark-haired boy replied. "Whatever the case, it's good that you did the right thing."

Before the other boy could speak again, Gohan turned around and walked away. In his place, he left behind a veritable stampede of reporters and journalists, each looking for their own scoop. Why had the boy confessed? Why did he pose as Demon Jr.? What was the story?

That didn't matter to Gohan. He found himself in an empty area of the temple. No one witnessed his quick ascent to the heavens as he took off from the ground.

School was starting in a couple of weeks. Now that this "Demon Jr." business was finally behind him, Gohan felt as if he could focus on the things that really mattered – making friends, creating memories…living a normal life.

Gohan inhaled the sky's fresh air deeply, closing his eyes and experiencing each and every sensation of his lungs swelling. After a moment, he exhaled.

He could hardly wait.

* * *

><p><strong>The Writer's Block:<strong>

_This is the tenth chapter, so I included a new piece of artwork! Also, the tenth chapter marks the end of the "Summer Arc" of the story, bringing us to the long-awaited "High School Arc" that will soon begin in the eleventh chapter. If you want to check out the full-size of the artwork, you can find it on my deviantArt account (linked from my profile)._

_If you haven't noticed, this new artwork is also the new story cover. You probably already guessed that this is Gohan's vigilante persona (who has yet to be given a name by the people of Satan City). The new story cover actually represents a change in the story from the first part (these first ten chapters) to the next part (chapter count not yet determined). Let me know what you think in your review!_

_I'm glad many of you enjoyed my inclusion of Yamcha! The only time I didn't like Yamcha in the course of _Dragon Ball Z_ was the time following his defeat at the hands of Gero. It was an understandable period of fear, but he just seemed so pathetic. Oh, well. He was still a really cool dude in _Dragon Ball _and had his share of moments in _Dragon Ball Z.

_**XllShadowMasterllX **__asked about the progression of Videl's martial arts abilities. Actually, Part Two (the "High School Arc") has a lot to do with Videl's growth as a martial artist. I'm trying to avoid most of the frequently used devices of other fanfictions that deal with this, so Videl's growth won't be so quick and Gohan (and other members of the gang) probably won't be super directly involved…So how does she do it? Find out in Part Two!_

_Also, in regards to avoiding the frequently used devices (__**euroteres**__ pointed this out, so thanks!)…I'm aware that Yamcha is often utilized to introduce Videl to the gang's special abilities, but I didn't want Gohan and Videl meeting again until high school. Yamcha is the only member of the gang (besides Bulma) really involved with "normal" people, so I think that's why people find him so useful in this capacity!_

_I think __**Shadow Tricked**__ and __**lightshadow101 **__were both confused (as well as other readers, I'm sure) over what has been going on during the Rising Sun Tournament, which is totally understandable. Admittedly, as I was writing, I was trying to hint at things at the same time as I was trying to hide things. This led to me thinking, just before online publication, "Okay, I'm pretty sure of what I wrote, but will the readers feel the same way?" I knew the whole of the chapter wasn't 100% my best work (though I appreciate when people tell me what I've done particularly well), but I figured that all the pieces would fit together by the end of it. Hopefully, this chapter clears up whatever issues you may have had with the previous ones. If not, send me a PM and let me know what you need to clarify within the story. I think this chapter may also answer __**SeanHicks4**__'s curiosity expressed in his review._

_So, yeah. The guy in the tournament was a faker all along. His name, Marner Pasta, was not only my attempted pun on "marinara pasta," but also a play on "imposter." Think about it. His name is "M. Pasta." Yeah, it's lame…but in a really fun and playful way, right?_

_Finally, I'm pleased to say that the story has garnered just over __**200 followers**__! I hope that the conclusion of Part One (the "Summer Arc") is enough to celebrate the milestone. If not, I remind you that I also uploaded a new piece of artwork to my deviantArt account._

_As always, thank you, everyone, for your continued support in the form of reviews, favorites, follows, and just plain reading the story! I hope that you continue to enjoy reading as much as I enjoy writing, if not more so. Please feel free to leave a review, provided you have the time or energy! Haha. But, seriously, all reviews, from the simplest smiley, to the most in-depth analysis of the text, are very much appreciated. Look forward to the start of Part Two next week!_

_~smashbangfusion_


	11. Vests, Vigilantes, and Sharks

**Demon Hunt: Chapter 11 – Vests, Vigilantes, and Sharks**

_August 16__th__, Age 773. Satan City. Celestial Station._

Celestial Station was both the center and terminus for the local buses and intercity subway trains that connected Satan City to Blue Comet City. The station was almost always bustling with people moving in and out of the public transports, either coming to work in Satan City or returning home in Blue Comet City. Today it was busy with large crowds of people for an entirely different reason.

Videl landed her jet-copter where the Satan City police cleared an area. The police lieutenant, whom Videl assumed to have taken charge of the situation, approached as she stepped out of the vehicle.

"Miss Satan," he acknowledged with a curt nod.

"Lt. Gans," she responded, returning the nod with one of her own. "What's the situation? I was only told to get here as quickly as possible."

He motioned for her to follow him to a van where he stationed his mobile operations center, equipped with a few computers, telephones, and monitoring equipment. "Guy with a gun took everyone inside the station hostage. We had to shut down the trains and buses for the day. From what we were able to gather, he's acting alone. There are over a dozen hostages inside. Thankfully, none of them have tried anything heroic yet."

"And that's where I come in," she said with a confident smirk. "You know me, lieutenant; I'm all heroics."

Ignoring her, he continued, "We think this man is dangerous. He refuses to answer the phone, and he isn't making any demands. To be honest, it's hard to know what to do here."

"All right, lieutenant, tell me what we _do _know."

"We know that he doesn't have all of the entrances covered. It should be easy to send someone in that looks harmless enough," he looked over Videl's tiny frame, "and do some recon work. You're going to enter the building and get into position to ID him. Meanwhile, we'll be trying to open up communications with him and negotiate. If negotiations fall through, we'll give you the signal to take him out."

"What if he refuses to talk to you?"

"Then exercise your own judgment and decide if you want to handle it yourself. Just know that you'll have to act quickly and without backup once you're inside the building."

Videl nodded. "Got it. Anything else?"

Gans shook his head. "We'll escort you to the entry point, but first you need to be outfitted with a vest."

She wasn't sure how to react to that. The police never put her in a vest before. And, from what she heard, the situation didn't seem all that dangerous. The young crime-fighter had handled far more dangerous situations before, so why this? And why now? Gans must have sensed her confusion because he immediately offered an explanation.

"New regulations considering 'Special Responders' such as you," he stated as one of his officers handed him a vest in Videl's approximate size. He dropped the vest into Videl's arms. She glared at the object, still trying to ascertain some obvious reason of which no one spoke. He sighed. "We're responsible for your safety."

"This doesn't have anything to do with my dad, does it?" she asked, noting the suspicious look in the lieutenant's eyes. He seemed to pretend not hear her question and instead began leading her to the entry point. Her father must have been trying to muscle his way into her business again. She stared at the vest hard, feeling its weight on her hands and forearms. _'I know you mean well, Dad,' _she thought, pulling the vest over her head and onto her small torso, _'But I get the distinct feeling that this will hurt more than help…'_

Videl waited as the lieutenant turned around to give Videl the privacy to change. She pulled off her large, baggy t-shirt and pulled on the vest over her head. After adjusting the fit, she pulled the shirt back over her head to conceal the armor. The lighter model didn't offer much protection for the shoulders or clavicles – those areas sacrificed for the sake of being inconspicuous – but that did make the vest almost unidentifiable beneath her loose shirt. Videl twisted her body around, testing the flexibility and allowance of movement the vest yielded. She sighed. "So either I wear this…thing, or not help out at all…"

She ultimately resigned herself to the bulletproof vest as she walked into the entry point and prepared to get into position. With any luck, she could take care of everything before her first day at school started. That was today – the first day of the eleventh grade.

* * *

><p>Gohan noticed an empty area where he could safely drop from the Flying Nimbus without attracting attention. No cars in the immediate vicinity, no people walking by…The streets were basically dead. It was odd how this could be when he was so close to the transit station where people were usually coming and going without pause.<p>

'_Oh,' _he thought as he caught a glimpse of the transit building during his descent. _'So that's it.'_

It was a gathering of news vans and police cruisers, visible a short distance away. All of them seemed to be focused on the building that they surrounded. Regular folk also seemed to be gathered around the police lines and barricades, some in a state of panic. Gohan focused his energy-sensing ability and tuned it to the signatures of the crowd.

'_People are definitely upset about something down there,' _he observed, his eyes shut tight as he concentrated his senses. It was weak, but there were erratic flares of energy that he recognized as the combination of adrenaline and panic and its effect on a person's spirit. _'I wonder what's going on…' _Gohan glanced at his watch. _'It's only 7-o'clock. Plenty of time to investigate.' _

If the circumstances were bad enough for that assembly of police officers, or bad enough to get this crowd of people so riled up, then Gohan deemed it to be definitely worth his time to see if he could help out in any way. After all, it was what his father would have done. If he saw something wrong, then he had an obligation to act. Gohan exited the alley and headed toward the police line. A few uniformed officers holding the line stood in his way to prevent him and the other civilians from crossing into the area.

"Can you tell me what's happening?" asked Gohan, glancing over the shoulders of one of the officers. The policeman nodded and pointed back to the building as he explained what the current state of affairs within the station. Gohan got enough information to know that the situation absolutely called for his assistance – hostages, guns…There was an undeniable potential for things to go very badly. The dark-haired youth turned around and headed back toward the empty streets, needing to find a way to drop in without being stopped or seen by anyone.

'_Thanks for being so concerned about my warmth, Mom,' _he thought wryly, pulling the hood of his jacket over his head, _'I needed a good disguise.' _He zipped up the dark jacket to hide any telling features of the Orange Star uniform – the vest, the badge, the white shirt – and floated to the top of a nearby building. Gohan called for the Flying Nimbus, laying his school bag on the golden cloud before flying high above the streets and heading straight for the top of Celestial Station.

"Okay, Gohan," he said quietly to himself, "Time to be a hero."

* * *

><p><em>Celestial Station. Interior.<em>

She must have been hiding for a few minutes now and she had still received no word from the lieutenant. Videl was only meant to watch carefully for any signs of instability or any other clear sign of danger from the hostage-taker, but her patience was beginning to wear thin. The phone was ringing, she could hear, _'But that stupid jerk won't pick up!' _The perpetrator wasn't trying to open communications at all, she gathered. That only meant that her time to take action was drawing near.

She shifted the position of the vest on her person. It was uncomfortable, and she was fully aware of its presence the entire time. But, if it was what she had to wear to have permission to help people, then the girl had no choice except to let it be. Videl sighed. The matter of safety wasn't an issue with which she had any particular problem, but her value as a fighter was based on her ability to move. Videl was small; she needed to be able to put everything she had into her movements whenever she threw a punch or a kick. Without that, she feared how effective she would be when it came time to act.

'_If this were a Capsule Corp. Battle Jacket, I wouldn't be complaining so much,'_ she thought bitterly, still busy adjusting the fit of the vest on her body. Battle Jackets were proven to be as light as regular clothing, but sturdy enough to absorb high-velocity gunfire without the wearer suffering from any sudden force of impact. It was as if they were being shot with spitballs! Sadly, Battle Jackets were only ever used in video demonstrations during the Capsule Tech Expo last year, and the company never made plans to mass produce the vests for armies or police forces. Not even with her father's vast resources and connections could Videl even _see _one being put to use in person much less wear one herself. _'No use whining about it now, Videl. You've got work to do.'_

Videl stole a quick glance at her watch. She was waiting for the silent signal. Two little white flashes from her screen, and she would strike. Videl peeked over her cover to better assess her surroundings one more time.

Just as the lieutenant said, there were a little more than a dozen hostages. They were all huddled together at the west side of the station while the hostage-taker paced back and forth not too far away. The hostage-taker was a rather medium-sized man. His hair was a mess. He wasn't holding his pistol steadily. Videl could see him becoming dangerously unstable if she acted too recklessly.

'_Two white flashes,' _she thought to herself, glancing once more at her wristwatch. Nothing. The phone was ringing again. She heard a gunshot that almost startled her out of position. Videl returned her attention to the hostage-taker. He shot the phone. A sign of his instability? _'Time to act.'_

As if to reaffirm her decision, she felt a faint vibration from her wristwatch followed by the long-awaited two white flashes on the screen. The police must have heard the gunfire and decided that now was her only shot to take the crook down before anyone else got hurt. She had the best weapon possible – the element of surprise. It had to be enough.

Unfortunately, the sound of the vibration of the wristwatch must have been magnified by the vast emptiness of the transit station, because the gunman was fast approaching her position. Without warning, he pulled her up by her wrist and dragged the small girl to the center of the station. Videl cursed as she broke her wrist free of his grip and pulled her right fist back for a punch at full power. The attack landed perfectly on the man's jaw, knocking him on the floor.

Videl knew it wasn't over. This was why she didn't want to wear a vest – not ever. She couldn't get the full rotation to her punches that she needed to really do damage due to the restrictions to her movement the vest provided. Her small frame simply wasn't strong or fast enough with something like this holding it back! The man started to pick himself up off the floor and turned to face Videl as she prepared to strike again. She was ready to throw a left hook when the sound of gunfire stopped her in her tracks.

She turned around, alarmed. The shot came from behind. Videl scanned the area and quickly found another man with a gun, his pistol pointed at the ceiling as smoke rose from its barrel. _'One of the hostages?' _she asked herself. Videl looked over the group of hostages. Four more stood up, each of them holding guns of their own. _'A trap.'_

The original hostage-taker began to laugh, wiping the blood from his face. "It looks like Miss Videl over here isn't as smart as they say!" he said with a grin. "See, you're what we were after all along."

"So…ransom, is it?" she asked, not at all dropping her fighting stance.

"We lure you out here alone, get a few guns to your head, and then we turn you into a bargaining chip for our big payday!" he boasted, holding his arms out in victory. "Mr. Satan may be the strongest man in the world, but we all know how much he cares for his _precious baby girl_." He added that last part with a sickening and mocking emphasis that made Videl grit her teeth. "So you're going to play nice while my associates here get these zip ties on your wrists."

"And if I try anything, you'll hurt the _real_ hostages," Videl noted, her eyes directed to the few people still cowering on the floor. The crime-fighter's fists clenched tightly. _'No getting out of it,' _she thought to herself. _'Why do I have to be such a marshmallow?' _ The situation could only get worse if she tried anything. The raven-haired crime-fighter was left with no other choice; she stood down. Her fists loosened and her arms dropped to her sides. Videl stared down at the floor in submission. "…I get it. I won't fight back – just don't hurt anyone."

"Good!" the man said before turning to his colleagues. "Now get the video camera!" he barked, "We're going to record the girl here with the hostages to show we mean business, then send one of the hostages out to deliver the video and our list of demands. Got it, boys?"

"Right, boss," the one closest to Videl confirmed. He wrapped the cable tie around her wrists and pulled it tight. Videl grunted through the pain of it almost cutting into her skin.

"You trying to cut off my circulation, moron?" she asked, not at all hesitating to antagonize the man. In response, he shoved her hard toward the true hostages. Another man pulled a video camera from his jacket and began recording.

"Ready?" he asked the original perpetrator – the obvious leader. The leader responded with a single, curt nod. Videl squinted her eyes at the bright light from the camera as it was brought to her face.

"We have Videl Satan," the leader began as the camera turned to face him. "These are our demands: Mr. Satan will provide us with three million Zeni in unmarked bills. He will not attempt to rescue his daughter. We will take a bus. The police will not follow us for 100 kilometers beyond the city limits. That includes jet-copters. If we have any reason to believe the police are following us, Videl will die. She will be released when we feel secure enough to let her go.

"You cannot contact us inside the building. This will be the Red Shark Gang's first and last interaction with Satan City's police. Now –"

But before he could finish, a hooded figure punched him clean in the jaw. The leader was knocked unconscious with a single punch. The goon holding the video camera dropped it on the floor as he pulled out the gun holstered in his pants' waistline. Videl was almost too shocked to fully comprehend what it was she was witnessing.

* * *

><p>The first punch was easy. The guy was yammering on about his gang, claiming to be untouchable or something like that. It was a monologue with which Gohan was quite familiar. So, when he had the opportunity to take out the man he assumed to have been the leader in a single, clean shot, Gohan saw no reason why he shouldn't use it. The rest of the fight, however, would only be more complicated. The half-Saiyan needed to beat the remaining five Red Shark members quickly enough so that they don't have the chance to hurt a hostage, but carefully enough so that he doesn't accidentally kill someone in the fight.<p>

Gohan quickly checked his surroundings. _'No one behind me,' _he noted as one of the goons dropped some kind of camera and pulled out his gun. _'Good. I always kind of liked doing this.'_

The crack of the semiautomatic pistol sounded throughout the station six times, the explosive _BANG_ reverberating in the large, empty building. Gohan saw the path of each bullet. He felt the change in the air as each projectile exited the barrel of the gun. It was a simple matter for him to weave his way around the trajectories of the bullets as he approached the man firing.

Before he could fire a seventh time, Gohan gripped the man's wrist over the sleeve and pointed the pistol to the ceiling. The seventh shot was fired at no one but the sky. With almost no effort, Gohan tore the weapon from the gang member's fingers and tossed it to the side. The pistol flew across the station and knocked the sawed-off shotgun from another Red Shark's hand.

Still gripping the cameraman's wrist with his left hand, Gohan tugged the crook towards him and crouched down so that his right elbow struck perfectly into the body. The impact sent the cameraman doubling over in pain on the ground and rendered him useless. Gohan turned his attention to the four Red Sharks still in play.

The entire ordeal must have been happening too quickly for the members to think. None of them were taking hostages as human-shields. Instead, they were mostly shouting at each other or at Gohan while pointing their weapons toward him. _'I guess they aren't too smart when their leader is out,_' Gohan observed. _'Good. It means things will go that much smoother.'_

Gohan inhaled, allowing his spirit energy to fill his lungs. He felt the low, humming vibration in his chest as the air within began to change.

"**You'll probably want to abandon the guns,**" he advised in a powerful baritone that seemed to greatly unsettle the Red Sharks. "**You've already seen how effective they are against me.**"

The gang members hesitantly let their weapons down on the floor, but they refused to completely give up. The men brought up their fists in aggressive stances, one of them shouting, "He's using some trick against the guns! This punk's probably useless in the hand-to-hand!"

With an amused grin, Gohan lowered himself into the Demon Stance and beckoned challengers in a taunting gesture, waving his hand toward himself. All four of them charged at once.

The first fighter, the tallest, and the one who accused Gohan of using some kind of 'trick' thrust his right leg around in a heavy roundhouse kick. Gohan quickly stepped back just barely out of the tall one's range. Just as the attack missed, Gohan swiftly leaped into the air and delivered a roundhouse kick of his own with his left leg straight across the side of the tall one's jaw. The first man crashed into the station's marble floor, completely out cold.

Gohan glanced up and saw two more Red Sharks rushing to him the moment after he landed. It was a red-haired fellow and a brunet, and both men were attacking Gohan simultaneously. Their attacks may have been fired rapidly in succession, but to Gohan, the gangsters may as well have been moving in slow-motion. Gohan ducked and weaved with the bare minimum of movement necessary to avoid the attacks, allowing the Red Shark members to tire themselves out. After a full twenty seconds of non-stop fighting, the red-haired man and brunet were both out of breath and sweating profusely. Gohan simply placed his hands on their necks and gently squeezed the nerve cluster that let them fall into unconsciousness.

He turned and faced the final remaining member of the Red Shark Gang, only to find him running from the scene. Immediately, Gohan sprinted after him with almost inhuman speed. It only took an instant for Gohan to catch up and place himself in the way of the gangster's escape route. The man, surprised at the sudden appearance of the hooded fighter, could not think to stop himself or brace for the inevitable impact. Gohan raised his left leg and planted it firmly into the crook's sternum as the Red Shark ran himself into the kick. He, too, was completely knocked out.

Gohan checked his watch. _'Three minutes for the whole fight…'_ he thought to himself as he sighed and scratched the back of his head over the hood. _'Holding back so much is so tiresome, but…' _He glanced over at the hostages, all of them seemingly waiting for him to grant their freedom. _'At least I didn't freak these people out.'_

He was about to approach the hostages when he noticed one of them staring intently at him. _'Scratch that. It's more like she's _glaring_ at me!' _It was a glare that could pierce through steel if it so needed. But why was it aimed at him? _'And why does she look so…'_

It was a petite girl with long, raven black hair tied into two pigtails that brushed over her shoulders and eyes that seemed to burn with intense ferocity despite their icy blue. Then it struck him. She was the girl from the tournament.

"Videl…"

The name escaped his lips in a whisper, and she seemed to react to it.

"Demon Jr."

Gohan lowered his head, trying to hide his face from the girl. The hood alone didn't provide as much protection to his identity as he would have liked. He must have stared at his shoes for a second too long, because the girl piped up again.

"So, are you going to untie us all, or what?"

Embarrassed, Gohan nodded his head and took a few steps forward. He stopped and turned around when he heard police officers and Special Tactical Squads burst through the doors of the station. They must have received the order to come in after all the gunfire. He had to run.

* * *

><p>"Hey, wait!" Videl called after the hooded vigilante as he escaped the building. <em>'Damn!'<em>

Gans was approaching. "Well, well, Miss Videl." Videl's eyes rolled at the silly rhyme. "I've always said you could get the job done with your hands tied behind your back. I just never thought you would actually try it."

She waited as one of the officers freeing the hostages cut the ties on her wrists and ankles before responding. Videl brought herself to her feet and said, "It wasn't me." The admission seemed to give the lieutenant pause, so Videl continued. "The vigilante from the bank robbery – he came in out of nowhere and knocked the Red Sharks out cold."

STS members and uniforms alike checked the unconscious bodies of the gangsters. Each of them confirmed that the perpetrators have been completely neutralized and that the area was clear. Uniformed police officers escorted the hostages back to the outside, _'where an assortment of blankets and foam cups will be waiting for them.'_

"Great!" exclaimed the lieutenant. "I can't believe you wanted to capture this guy!"

'_I'm not going to make excuses for myself, but I could have handled it!' _thought Videl, feeling somewhat insulted. If she hadn't had the vest to hinder her ability to fight, if she had known that it was a trap for her in the first place…If there were no hostages…

"He came in and let the bad guys shoot their guns near the hostages. They could have gotten hurt, or killed at any minute because of his actions!"

"Well, I –"

But before he could finish, Videl cut him off.

"Forget it," she said as she pulled off her shirt and the bulletproof vest underneath it. Videl watched it drop to the floor and thought, _'A lot of good this stupid thing did me.'_

"Videl?"

"I have school," she stated simply while pulling her shirt back on. "You guys know how to call me if you need my help. In the meantime, my work here is done."

The first day of school. There was only half-an-hour left until the semester really began. As she stepped outside and faced the eastern sun, Videl brought her hand up to shield her eyes. The raven-haired teen walked passed all of the cameras and reporters trying to get their scoop on the story. As she entered her jet-copter and turned on its engine, she caught a little bit of a hostage's interview from the radio.

"_He was some kind of…dark fighter that came in without a word and took care of those Red Shark guys faster than anyone can believe! It was almost more exciting than watching Mr. Satan fight, because, you know, this is life and death, and –"_

She turned the radio off. _'Oh, I just know that people are going to be talking about this at school today.'_

* * *

><p><strong>The Writer's Block:<strong>

_**Why this chapter was late?**__ I spent the better part of the week attempting a chapter for April Fool's Day that would parody tropes found commonly in "Gohan Goes to High School" stories that eventually devolved into a mess that I absolutely hated writing. I finished, but as I reread what I wrote, I realized what how utterly joyless it truly was. I believe that, if I didn't have fun writing it, then it won't be fun reading it, and so I had to drop it in favor of a real chapter (which, unsurprisingly, I did enjoy writing). You can find the hoax chapter below this week's __**Writer's Block**__!_

_So I spent what time I could over this weekend writing this chapter as quickly (but also as strongly) as I could without sacrificing quality. While I make no apology for delaying an update (this is work I'm doing for free because I have fun doing it, and not because I'm obligated in any way), I do apologize to people I promised to have a chapter up by the 28__th__. Don't be too disappointed; I'm doing my best! :D_

_I think I forgot to add this last time, but for those of you who enjoyed the references to Yamcha's relationship with Tights, credit __**Emotionally crippled reader**__ for suggesting it to me. I always felt bad that Yamcha never achieved his dream to be married. Poor Yamcha. He's not the worst guy in the world! Haha._

_**KaosMoshpit**__, __**ArmyWife22079**__, __**Guest**__, and __**TheGodfather93**__ all commented on the characterization, which really humbles me! Haha. I _have _been enjoying a lot of _Veronica Mars _lately, so I think some of that bleeds over into Videl. Both of them are petite young women with tough attitudes who refuse to take crap from anybody…and I have to say that I have a weakness for that!_

_**ArmyWife22079**__, in regards to your questions concerning the future of the story…I can say that Videl, sadly, won't be encountering Broly in this fanfiction. I'm still not sure whether the WMAT announcer will recognize Gohan through the family resemblance or through his use of the name 'Demon Jr.' because I haven't reached that stage in my notes right now. Finally, I do plan on utilizing Gohan and Goku's various fighting styles and techniques within the story! Thanks for reviewing!_

_As always, thank you everyone leaving a review, adding this story to your list of favorites, following the story, or simply reading! I'm glad so many of you enjoyed my M. Pasta pun. It was a little silly, I admit, but at least it was silly-good as opposed to silly-stupid._


	12. Ugly Ducklings

**Demon Hunt: Chapter 12 – Introversion, Self-Doubt, and Ugly Ducklings**

_August 16__th__, Age 773. Orange Star High School._

He had never felt so out of place in his life. It was an almost surreal sensation, to be surrounded by so many people his own age and still feel like he was all alone. There was a contradictory feeling that made him both extremely aware _and_ extremely numb at the same time. It was supposed to be his moment – the first step in a high school experience filled with normal adventures, normal friends, and a normal _study schedule_ – and yet the Son boy could only think, _'What am I doing here? I'll never fit in. These people won't like me. They won't understand me.'_

True enough, Orange Star High was a setting outside of his comfort zone of the mountains and the trees and all of nature's offerings, and that realization left Gohan uneasy. The half-Saiyan was inured to nothing in that place – a thought that originally excited him when attending school was just some unattainable dream. However, the reality was that he didn't know what high school was supposed to be like when he first stepped through the doors of the main building.

'_Okay, I've got to be calm,' _he thought, walking down the halls that led to his classroom. _'I've faced situations like this before – coming in without knowing what to expect. Like…Namek, or when I fought the Saiyans for the first time…I've handled worse.'_

When he stepped into the classroom, he noted more than a handful of empty seats. _'I must be here a little early,'_ Gohan thought to himself, checking his watch.

It was about fifteen minutes to the hour, and, of course, certain students were more proactive in finding their seats before a teacher came along and assigned any undesirable position. Gohan's eyes wandered to his left, scanning the area. The seating was divided into several rows of long table desks with three aisles of stairs – two aisles at either side of the class, one wide one straight down the middle. Four rows of seats, and there were two sections. There were a couple of students sitting up front, chatting happily to each other about something that must have happened over the summer vacation. Another student was in the third row, focused solely on his computer phone. At the very top, the fourth row, in the seat closest to the window, there sat a familiar blonde.

"Gohan!" she exclaimed, waving him over. She scooted away from the desk's edge, a gesture suggesting that she was leaving space for Gohan. He smiled at her his usual Son grin – sheepish, maybe a little goofy, but warm and friendly. He raised his hand to return the wave as he quickly stepped up the window aisle and approached what he assumed to be his seat.

"Good morning, Erasa," greeted Gohan, lowering himself into the desk space. She eyed him for a second, and he hadn't failed to notice. In his embarrassment, he shifted his own gaze to the ceiling lights. Being there, in a place so foreign, surrounded by people so alien…it only made Gohan feel all the more uncomfortable in his own skin.

"I'm sorry," she said behind a stifled giggle. Gohan turned to her and shot a curious look. "I guess I forgot to mention, but the uniform policy here is pretty lenient."

"Um…" Gohan glanced over her figure, only just realizing that Erasa was not in an Orange Star uniform, but, rather, a light green tube top and tight blue jeans. Quickly, Gohan turned to the other students. Just as Erasa, not one wore the so-called _required attire_ for students. Feeling very self-conscious, he picked at his black vest.

"Yeah…The school only makes us wear the uniform for events like yearbook photos, school IDs…You really only need to wear the badge." Gohan's face was growing redder with shame by the second. Quickly, Erasa added, "Oh, but you look very…_you_ in it."

Gohan gave her a doubtful look before scratching the back of his head – his "go to" gesture for just about any inexplicable desire to express either something he couldn't quite articulate or just plain embarrassment. This time, it happened to apply to the latter. Gohan forced a weak chuckle in a vain attempt to hide his discomfort and perhaps allow Erasa to move on to another subject, but the effect was just the opposite.

"No, Gohan," she said, leaning her side onto the desk as she faced him, "I think this look is just what a new boy like you needs. Dorky, maybe, but in a cute way, and it sets you apart from the other guys here!"

She was trying to comfort him. It only served to make him feel just a little more uneasy.

"Set me apart?" he asked weakly.

"Yeah! That's what high school is about, Gohan! Standing out. Making an identity. Trying on a new hat, or whatever!"

It was certainly a sincere effort on her part – he could tell that much – but she was missing the point of _why _Gohan wanted to enroll in Orange Star High in the first place. He didn't want to stand out; he's done that more than once and _not once_ did it end well. Gohan wanted to blend in with the background, a place he knew was safe. He wanted to have a small, tightly knit group of friends, a stellar, but boring academic career, and a quiet, normal life. But…_'Erasa's a good person…If she says this is what I have to do, I suppose it wouldn't hurt to try…'_

"Okay," he said, lightly scratching his cheek. "I'll keep wearing the uniform."

"Hey, Erasa!" greeted a tall young man with long blonde hair from the middle aisle, walking up towards the back row where Gohan and Erasa sat. Gohan thought this newcomer looked familiar, but it was difficult to keep track of all the people he had met in the past few weeks. After all, there have been more new faces in the past month than there had been in the past six years.

"Sharpie, hi!" she exclaimed, wrapping her arms around him in a brief hug. Erasa stepped back and gestured toward Gohan. "Gohan, meet Sharpner Scheffings."

Gohan stood up, thinking that the name seemed familiar, and extended his hand for the customary greeting. Sharpner only stared at him, his nose slightly turned up, almost judging the dark-haired boy from where he stood. Sharpner was taller than Gohan by a couple of inches. He had a broader build, long blonde hair that was not quite as golden as Erasa's, and he must have left his house in a hurry because he wasn't wearing a shirt over his tank top (or so Gohan thought).

After a brief moment, Sharpner smiled and took Gohan's hand in his own. Two pulses. That was when Gohan recognized him. He almost said it out loud, but Gohan was, thankfully, not so careless. _'You're that guy from the tournament!' _he silently realized, returning his hand to his side. _'Wait, I should just act like it's my first time meeting him. Or…do I act like I saw him at the tournament? That seems more natural; I mean, I _did _see him at the tournament…where I beat him. Is he sore about that?'_

"It's nice to meet you, Gohan."

The other male's voice shook Gohan from his thoughts. He nervously touched the back of his head for just a second, as if trying to ascertain whether or not his nape was still there.

"Uh…" Gohan shook his head lightly. "Sorry, um, it's nice to meet you, too, Sharpner."

Sharpner had an amused look on his face as he turned to Erasa and asked, "So this is our 'Ugly Duckling,' huh?"

That hurt. No one had ever called Gohan 'ugly' before. And, by no means, did Gohan ever seem ugly when he looked in the mirror. Maybe a little plain, he thought sometimes, but never ugly. Gohan, once again embarrassed, suddenly found his feet very interesting.

"Sharpner!" Erasa protested, slapping his shoulder. "The whole 'Ugly Duckling' thing is stupid. Don't talk about it like that!"

'_It?' _Gohan asked himself. _'Okay, I know I'm not an 'it,' so what are they really talking about, here?'_

"What 'ugly duckling?'" Gohan asked. They both turned to him, silent for a moment. Erasa was the one who bothered to explain it.

"You know that old story, right? _The Ugly Duckling_?" she asked. Gohan nodded. Essentially, it was a story about finding out where a person belonged. Then it clicked. That was Gohan's place with Erasa and whatever group of friends she had. _Ugly Duckling_. He was just an outsider meant to tag along until he found out where he needed to be. In the meantime, his presence was merely something to be tolerated.

"That…doesn't seem like a very friendly allusion," Gohan commented, letting Erasa and Sharpner both know that he fully understood the implications of the nickname. Erasa nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, which is why I think it's stupid. I think you're going to get along great with us!"

That was a relief to hear. Gohan didn't exactly need a reminder to let him know how nice a person Erasa was, but the 'Ugly Duckling' comment really did throw him off. Strangely enough, that alienated feeling of the titular "duckling" was not unfamiliar to him. With the gang, he had only ever really connected with his father and Piccolo. They understood him, cared for him, taught him how to be strong, and he loved them for it.

Losing Goku felt very much like losing a major part of himself. He couldn't connect with Vegeta, who had told him he was never much of a Saiyan and probably never will be. Despite having the same Saiyan blood running through his veins as Vegeta's, Gohan couldn't help but agree; he could be nothing like the Saiyan Prince. Yamcha and Krillin were always more of his father's friends than his own. They were amiable enough, sure, but they just weren't people with whom he could easily bond. Tien and Chiaotzu were always on the move, training, perfecting their martial arts. No room to have a heart-to-heart there. He did feel at ease with Bulma, Trunks, Goten, and his mother, but the familial bond was not quite the same as the camaraderie he once observed with Goku and his friends and allies.

Gohan was becoming lost in his own head. He returned his attention to Erasa and Sharpner.

"We're a pretty diverse little group of friends, Gohan," Erasa explained – her attempt to let Gohan know that there shouldn't be a reason for him to feel out of place. "Sharpner's a bit insensitive sometimes, but he's okay – once you get to know him, that is."

The half-Saiyan simply smiled and nodded in response. He wasn't going to make any sort of judgment on the tall blonde right away. It was something he remembered from his father – one of his best (and, sometimes, worst) qualities, Chi-Chi would always say. _Always willing to see the good in people. Always willing to give someone another chance to become better. _He was sure Sharpner meant nothing offensive by bringing up that whole "Ugly Duckling" topic, and he was willing to give the blonde a second chance at a first impression. Or third chance. Should he count their match at the Satan City Tournament as a meeting?

Gohan heaved a sigh, already a little weary of himself. He checked his watch. There were still a few minutes before classes officially began, and already he's been caught doubting himself just because he's feeling a little bit shy and uneasy in school. Erasa's done a lot to help him out; for that, he was thankful. Doubt was always something that weighed down on him. He had to wonder if that self-doubt arose from the trials he had to face as a child, or if maybe his brain was just wired that way. All of his father's friends – they've had to face much of the same as he did, and they never seemed to dwell on it the way he did. Chi-Chi and Bulma once said that the gang was only like that because most of them were idiots who only cared about fighting or having a good time. Perhaps it was that very simplicity Gohan craved.

"So, you'll never guess who we hang out with, Gohan!" Erasa said excitedly. Gohan tilted his head to the side, shooting her a curious look. "I'll give you a hint: she's the most famous person at this school."

"Um…"

"Oh, hey, Erasa, did you hear?" Sharpner asked, cutting into Erasa's guessing game. "The police called her to that hostage situation at Celestial Station."

"She's probably going to be late for school, then," she replied.

"Who's going to be late?" asked Gohan.

"Our friend. She's, like, this certified crime-fighter. Papers and everything," Sharpner answered. "That should make it easier for your guessing game, right?"

Erasa slapped his shoulder. "Don't give it away! I want it to be a surprise!"

Gohan's brow wrinkled as his confusion grew. "I have no idea what you two are talking about."

The blondes paused, looking at Gohan with noticeable disbelief. It was as if the most obvious answer in the world was waving itself in Gohan's face and he was the only one who didn't notice.

"You're from Satan City, right?" asked Sharpner. Gohan shook his head.

"I'm from Zone 439 – up in the mountains."

They didn't respond to that. Was it shocking?

"No way," Erasa uttered. "That's over a thousand kilometers away! Even by jet-copter, that's a five hour commute! How do you do it?"

Gohan cringed, inwardly cursing himself for not thinking about that. "J…" he struggled, trying to think of a plausible explanation, "Jet…plane…"

That seemed to set the two at ease. "That explains it. So you're really just flying for an hour or so, huh?" asked Erasa. "Wow! I thought Capsule Corp. stopped making capsule jet-planes _years_ ago!"

"Yeah, it's um…" Gohan scratched the back of his head. "It's a pretty old model."

"So now that we've established that you probably won't know the local celebrities," said Sharpner, changing the subject, "maybe you can guess our friend's identity based on her family. Here's another hint: her old man is probably the most important person in the world."

That was something with which Gohan could work. '_The most important person in the world has to be…' _he thought, tightly folding his arms over his chest. _'I doubt that it's Dende.' _That made Gohan smile to himself a little. Then it clicked. The most important person in the world.

"You're kidding," he started, his eyes wide as dinner plates and his mouth hanging slightly ajar. "She can't be…King Furry's daughter?"

Sharpner and Erasa simultaneously burst out laughing. "Are you joking?" Erasa asked. "The king doesn't have a daughter!"

Right. Gohan had forgotten about that. _'So who could possibly be more important to the world than the Guardian or the king?'_

"Alright, everyone, please take your seats!" an older voice called out. The teens drew their attention to the front of the class, where an elderly man in glasses stood before the blackboard. He waited patiently as students who were running a little late rushed into the classroom.

As he requested, the students began filing themselves into the rows of desks and settling themselves in chairs they deemed suitable. Gohan, Erasa, and Sharpner followed suit at their top, window row. Gohan sat at the edge, closest to the windows, Erasa directly to his right, and Sharpner beyond her, sitting by the middle aisle of the room. There was an empty seat between Erasa and Sharpner, no doubt left for their mystery friend.

When all the students seemed to be seated, the teacher spoke up again. "Now, we have a new student joini –"

His announcement was interrupted as a petite, raven-haired young woman sprinted through the classroom doors. Gohan could feel her energy. How it stood out among this group of supposedly normal high school students was surprising. He didn't even have to focus. There was an indescribable intensity to it. Determination. Passion. It was an energy he had felt before, but he couldn't place where.

"Miss Satan, I'm glad that you've joined us," said the teacher.

'_Satan?' _Gohan asked himself. _'She's Mr. Satan's daughter?'_

"Sorry, Mr. Rubric. I got…" she exhaled loudly, soft pants escaping her lips, "I got caught up in a hostage situation at the station…You know my volunteer work, right?"

"Yes, I'm well aware of your work in aiding the police. The teachers here are, of course, willing to let tardiness go because of it, but try not to interrupt my announcements in the future."

Mr. Satan's daughter helps out with the police. Gohan turned to Erasa, who was giving the daughter of the world's alleged savior – arguable the most important person in the world to many people – a wave. He turned his head back towards the girl, who was making her way up the middle aisle. His eyes lingered upon her face. Her expression was fierce and unyielding. Beautiful, like a fire, but almost as unapproachable. Gohan knew the identity of the mystery friend. Videl. The girl from the tournament.

Videl Satan.

* * *

><p>Videl sidled behind Sharpner and found her way to her usual spot between the two blondes. She turned her attention to the front of the class as the teacher spoke up once more.<p>

"Alright, everyone. Today, we have a new student joining us here at Orange Star High School." He looked to Erasa's general direction. Videl turned to her left and leaned over the desk, trying to see beyond her close friend to the usually empty window seat. Occupying the once unoccupied space was a boy that she was sure she had seen once before.

'_What's with the uniform?' _she asked, smirking.

"That's your cue to stand, my boy," said Mr. Rubric. The familiar stranger stood. He was fairly tall. Boyishly handsome, if she had to say so. Not the most muscular person she had ever seen, but not the scrawniest either. The teacher continued his introduction, "Everyone, meet Son Gohan. Mr. Son here scored perfect marks on every one of his entrance exam subjects. Do make him feel welcome."

Gohan. She wasn't one to forget an odd name like that one. The same crop of spiky dark hair lingered in her mind as she recalled that boy from the Satan City tournament. He bowed earnestly to the class.

"Hello," he stammered. "My name is Gohan. It's nice to meet you all."

Was Satan City such a small place that they could end up meeting at school in the same class? In a way, she was glad. When they first met, they exchanged names. It was only fair that they had the opportunity to use them again.

He sat back down, his face slightly pink. Erasa leaned over, whispering to him. Videl could make out most of what her friend was saying.

"So what did I tell you?" she asked the boy. "Isn't it exciting – knowing the daughter of a celebrity?"

'_Ah,' _Videl thought. _'So she's playing that card again.' _She leaned forward, catching a glimpse of the new boy. _'And he must be the new ugly duckling of the school.'_

"Yeah, that must be pretty neat."

'_Neat?' _she asked herself, smirking at Gohan's choice of words. _'People still say that?' _She shook her head, turning her attention to the teacher. _'I really hope this guy doesn't try anything with me because of my dad.' _

She stole another glance at him. Videl was curious, as she was with any person who tried to enter her circle. With Gohan's position as the 'Ugly Duckling,' she was forced to tolerate this new presence. That made her curious. If he was to hang around with her, Erasa, Sharpner, and whoever else for the next few weeks, she had to ask: what kind of person was Son Gohan?

'_Son…' _she thought, folding her hands over the desk. _'Like that guy Dad used to talk about when he won the 24__th__ WMAT a couple of years ago. What was his name? Son Go…ku?'_

Son Goku. Old martial arts enthusiasts once praised him as the living essence of martial arts. Videl had no idea what they meant by that, but it seemed like high praise nonetheless. There were no pictures at the old tournaments. No broadcasts. Only stories. So, when her father made the argument that Son Goku was a cheater who used the same tricks as Cell, people would only take his word for it. If he were as skilled a fighter as people used to say, then shouldn't he have participated in the 24th WMAT? Her father said as much, and she was inclined to agree with him.

'_I wonder if there's any relation there.'_

* * *

><p>"Hey, Videl."<p>

A class period break had just begun. They had a few minutes before the next teacher entered. Students took the time as an opportunity to stretch their legs or check their mobile phones. She turned to her right. "What is it, Sharpner?"

"I heard about that 'vigilante' stuff this morning," he replied. Videl groaned inwardly. She _knew _this was going to come up. "Is it true? One guy just came in and took everyone down all at once?"

Erasa joined in on the conversation. "Wow, Videl! He sounds strong. Maybe as strong as your dad?"

"Come on!" someone in the row before theirs exclaimed. What was his name? Penn. He wasn't part of Videl's usual circle of friends, but she was familiar with the guy soon-to-be formerly known as 'the smartest student at Orange Star High.' _Soon-to-be-formerly_, because Gohan's apparently perfect test scores meant that title was soon to be succeeded. The small, bespectacled student turned towards them and boasted, "No one is as strong as Mr. Satan! He could whip that vigilante guy by flexing his muscles!"

"But, still, someone out there just taking down bad guys by himself…That's pretty awesome," said Sharpner. Videl cocked an eyebrow at him.

"Hello? You forget that I do the same exact thing?" she asked, folding her arms over her chest. He shook his head.

"Completely different, babe. You've got papers and stuff that makes you legit," he explained. "It takes the coolness down a couple pegs. _This_ guy, though…" He lowered his voice, giving it a low, whiskey-and-cigarettes quality, "_He doesn't have to play by the rules…_"

Videl scoffed over a slight smirk, rolling her eyes. He was being an idiot again, but at least it was an amusing act. "Shut up, man," she said, punching him in the arm. In response, Sharpner rubbed his arm tenderly, feigning a pained face.

"So what are they calling this guy?" asked Erasa.

"I think he's the news people are calling him the 'Dark Fighter' or something like that," Penn supplied. "Cool, right?"

"Yeah…" agreed Erasa. "Wow."

* * *

><p>Gohan couldn't help but feel a little surprised that news of his exploits had spread so quickly. He unconsciously reached into his bag and felt the dark hoodie he hid within, just to make sure that it was still there. The half-Saiyan had taken it off a short while after leaving Celestial Station, hoping that no one would recognize him as that same guy who fought off those Red Sharks so long as he wasn't wearing the jacket.<p>

"He took down the Red Shark Gang by himself, huh?" asked Sharpner. He whistled. "Those guys have hit a few of the major towns before now. Glad they're off the streets for good."

"Hey, they said that the guy's fast enough to dodge bullets! Can you imagine that? Bullets!" cried the bespectacled teen. Gohan hadn't caught his name yet.

"Penn, that's impossible," argued Erasa. _'So that's his name.'_

"That's what witnesses were saying!"

He allowed them to continue their discussion. Gohan's eyes fell on Videl. She looked rather annoyed. Maybe she didn't want to talk about the station? He leaned forward so that he could see past Erasa and focus on the raven-haired crime-fighter entirely.

"Are you alright?" he asked her, concerned. She looked at him, cocking a brow inquisitively. "You were taken hostage by those guys, right?"

Her blue eyes seemed to widen considerably. Did it surprise her that he knew that? Maybe he should have waited for them to be alone before bringing it up. Or maybe it was a private matter and she wanted to deal with it on her own. Or maybe she just wasn't bothered by the event until he brought it up himself.

"Hold on," Erasa said, shocked with Gohan's revelation. "What happened?"

"Oh," said Penn with certain realization. "I heard about that, too!"

"Wow, Videl, you must be slipping," commented Sharpner teasingly.

"Okay, okay, shut up," she said, waving her hands in a gesture meant to let people know that she's okay. "The whole situation turned out to be a Red Shark Gang trap so they could hold me for ransom." She turned to Gohan, looking him straight in the eyes. "I'm completely fine, Gohan. I'm a tough girl. Thanks for asking."

That was nice to hear. Not the thanks, but the fact that she wasn't badly affected by the event. He nodded.

"So, Gohan…" Videl started, changing the subject of conversation to the new student. "About your name…"

Gohan looked at Videl, not knowing what to expect.

"You wouldn't happen to be related to Son Goku, would you?"

'_Ah,'_ he thought, his brow starting to furrow. _'Of course she would bring this up. She's a Satan, after all. I wonder if everyone related to Mr. Satan will just try and drudge up fake rivalries.'_ He sighed. Was that really what he thought? What would his father do? Goku would just be honest, straightforward, and only hope for the best in everyone else. Maybe Videl wasn't her father. Gohan certainly wasn't _his _father. There was a chance that she was only curious about Gohan. He had nothing to lose in answering that question...right?

"Yeah," Gohan answered. "He was my father."

* * *

><p><strong>The Writer's Block:<strong>

_I can honestly say that you readers are amazing. For the record, I happen to agree with just about everybody that said the "Hoax Chapter" at the end of last week's update was terrible. Obviously, being an April Fool's Day prank, that was the point. But what really surprises me (in a good way) is how, in some reviews, people seemed to believe that it was part of the main "Demon Hunt" story. Like, I'm smiling, because I'm not entirely sure if you were just trolling me to pay back for the April Fool's thing, or if you really believe I would add that crap to the story._

_So, just for some kind of "official" clarification, the "First Day of School" chapter was NOT part of "Demon Hunt," but, rather, a fake chapter that I took down after April 1__st__ passed. I love that people were seriously upset about it – it means that they _really _care about this story! Or, at least, I hope so. :D_

__**Exgo **pointed out that there was one reference to what the "Dragon World" refers to as "the Olympics" in _Dragon Ball_, when Krillin does a 100 meter dash before Roshi's training. That means there is something called an Olympics in canon, and I have since changed the seventh chapter to accommodate the information. Thanks again!__

_**Engel2092 **__asked if the Capsule Corp. Battle Jacket is the same armor Bulma made based off of Vegeta's Planet Trade Organization armor. Yes! It is. __**maximusrexmundi **__also commented on it, and I'm glad that it was something that hasn't been really utilized in _Dragon Ball Z _fanfictions very much, if at all. It makes a certain sense to market the technology to the police, to the military, or to private security firms, so there has to be some reason the Brief family never tried to market the Battle Jacket. Either there must be some negative consequence of doing so that they see and we don't, or maybe they just don't care about people's safety. Hm._

_**bmxasdfg**__, in regards to Gohan's power level, I believe it is safe to assume that he is about the same as he is in canon. He simply had neither the opportunity nor the motivation to fight with everything he's got. He never pushed himself beyond his limits, so he sort of stagnated and declined. However, his technical skill and perception are still just as sharp as they have ever been (which, I think, was not so in canon)._

_Quick question – you all know that my little "thank you readers" thing at the end of each chapter is sincere, right? Because it is. Thank you everyone for taking the time to read, review, favorite, or follow! You guys are awesome. __**So, I know I haven't been consistently updating on Fridays the way I used to do, but at least you still get the weekly update anyway, right? Between studying for midterm exams, catching up on late assignments, working on final projects (you know, basic college stuff), and planning out the story, it's been difficult trying to find time to write. I'm not apologizing for anything, but I just want you to know that I'm doing the best that I can do.**_

_**PS. At this point, the story has garnered over 200 reviews! Thank you, everyone, for your support!**_

_~smashbangfusion_


	13. Complicated Feelings

**Demon Hunt: Chapter 13 – Whispers, Apologies, and Complicated Feelings**

_August 16__th__, Age 773. Orange Star High School._

'_So…'_ she glanced over at Gohan. He was sitting silently, looking as though he were mentally preparing himself for the next class. The students of 4D were in the middle of another break. It had been almost an hour since his "big reveal." Videl was still going over what had happened in her head. At the time, she didn't know what kind of answer to expect; she was simply curious.

Son Goku was his father. _Was_. The operative word.

'_What is going through your mind, Son Gohan?' _she asked silently, knowing fully that there was no way to transmit her thoughts to his brain. It was one of her 'things.' If you will it enough, something is bound to happen.

Son Goku was the new boy's father. She heard a few stories of the man. Son Goku was the youngest participant to ever reach the finals of the WMAT. He was also the only fighter in the event's history to have reached the final match three times in a row. She knew a little bit because she used to be interested. This was her father's main rival for popularity a few years ago, so she spent a little time trying to get to know the mysterious fighter. There were no pictures, no videos…only old newspaper articles and stories.

Videl began listing a few more trivial facts from the top of her head. Son Goku was the youngest martial artist to receive the honor of World Champion of Martial Arts at the age of 18. He won the final match in a bloody battle that resulted in the destruction of the tournament grounds. She couldn't for the life of her, remember his opponent's name, but she was sure it was an alias. If it were an important matter, she would have jotted down a reminder to look that information up later on. Instead, she continued to think on what she knew of Son Goku.

After becoming the WMAT champion, he hadn't made an appearance since. She assumed that he left to raise a family. One of the old stories that stood out was his match and subsequent marital engagement with one of the other fighters during that year he had won. Of course, her father suggested that he ran scared because he was too afraid to get in the ring with the man who killed Cell. After all, Hercule was the man who exposed Cell as nothing more than a fancy magician, and Son Goku used similar kinds of tricks as Cell did to win the WMAT. With that trump card taken away, Videl supposed it made sense that the former champion wouldn't make an attempt to challenge her father.

And it turned out that Son Goku was simply dead. There was no cowardice involved. Just unfortunate circumstances.

The atmosphere was awkward among them. Penn, Erasa, Sharpner, Gohan, and Videl herself – everything in their corner of the classroom was silent. There were whispers that were just out of earshot, but it was nothing that helped the situation. Everything was…uncomfortable, to say the least. _'But what am I supposed to say?' _she pondered. Videl ran hypothetical lines through her head, trying to find the one that seemed the least offensive and ridiculous to say. '_We only thought your dad was a coward because we didn't know he was dead? Sorry?'_

She rolled her eyes and folded her arms over her chest. _'Videl, you're an idiot.'_

She glanced over at Penn. An hour earlier, just after Gohan's revelation, it was Penn who reacted to Gohan's words.

* * *

><p>"<em>Oh my GOD!" he exclaimed, his mouth wide with both amazement and disbelief. It earned the attention of the other students in the room. The class almost immediately fell silent as Penn continued. "That's amazing! That cheating coward had a son!"<em>

"_Two sons," Gohan replied, his tone an unnerving calm and quiet. Videl couldn't quite say for sure, but she could almost feel some kind of…wave fill the room for just a second. There was a pressure on her chest that disappeared almost as quickly as she noticed it. Gohan continued, "And he wasn't a cheater, or a coward."_

"_Yeah, so, Videl's dad can spot a cheater from a mile away," Penn replied, matter-of-factly, "and he's got your dad pegged for one. If he isn't a coward, then why didn't he ever try to challenge Mr. Satan?" Penn turned to Videl. "I mean, you agree, right Videl?"_

_Gohan turned to Videl as well, and so did everyone else listening in on the conversation. Her blue eyes stared straight back into Gohan's. The boy's eyes were so dark…Dark in color, anyway. But there was a depth that she couldn't explain. They didn't stare at her accusingly. They were just…studying her._

"_What happened to your father?" she asked. That was the most neutral way she could have worded it. She was curious, of course, but she didn't want to insult him. More than that, she didn't want to openly agree with Penn."Why didn't Son Goku ever answer my father's challenges?"_

"_He was never able to. He's…gone." There was a pause. "…Dead…" Gohan looked away, tapping on the desk lightly. It must have been difficult to say. Thinking of her own experience with her mother's passing, a part of Videl sympathized. "A little over six years now."_

_Erasa reached for his shoulder. She was always quick to comfort. "I'm so sorry," she said consolingly._

_He smiled weakly, gently pushing her hand away. "I'm fine," he insisted. "I think…I just want to be left alone for a little."_

* * *

><p>Her father spent a couple of years after the Cell Games calling Son Goku out for a match when the WMAT grounds were finally rebuilt. But Goku was dead long before those challenges were made. She couldn't help but feel guilty and a little ashamed for her father. <em>'Six years ago…' <em>Videl noted. _'That was around the time of the Cell Games.'_

Sharpner gave Penn a "congratulatory" slap on the back. The hard _CLAP_ of the gesture pulled Videl out of her own head.

"Way to go, man," the blond whispered. Videl was close enough to catch it. "You managed to insult the new guy's dead dad on his first day. You sure know how to win 'em, huh?"

Penn Case. He'd been trying to worm his way into Videl's circle ever since their first year at Orange Star. She knew his type the moment he opened up his mouth to introduce himself. He was small – just barely above Erasa in height, and he had almost no muscle of which to speak. All the while, he claimed to be a huge lover of martial arts, and her father's greatest fan. His motives for friendship with Videl were quite transparent; he wanted to meet Hercule. Maybe get a few lessons from his hero. Feel strong, if only for a short while. She was never one to pick on weaklings, so she never tried to scare him off with violence, but her patience was wearing quite thin.

"Oh, whatever, Sharpner!" he protested, immediately turning to face the muscle-bound blond. "I didn't know his dad was…you know…!" He glanced over at Gohan, who was quietly scratching a few things into a notebook. Penn leaned forward, whispering, "…dead…" as if it were a dirty word. "And…besides!" Penn must have noticed Videl listening in as his eyes quickly shifted in her direction. "Just because Son Goku isn't _alive_ to face Mr. Satan doesn't mean Videl's dad was wrong about him. The man was still a cheater."

'_Ugh…' _she thought, feeling the muscles in her face contort so as to properly display her disgust. It had barely been an hour and already Penn was insulting a dead man again. _'This is supposed to make me friends with you? Just because you hang on every word my father ever said? You don't talk about someone's dead parent like that! You just don't!'_

Clenching her fists, she started to feel the pressure on her toes begin to build up. She was getting ready to leap over the desk and shove her balled hands down Penn's throat just to shut him up. Surprisingly, it was Sharpner who stopped her. His large hand firmly pressed down on her small ones, signaling them not to move.

"You're gonna want to change seats, Penn," he said in a low tone. He lightly jerked his head to Videl's direction – an obvious warning of what was to come should Penn continue running his mouth. Dumbly, the bespectacled youth turned to face Videl. His eyes met a piercing, intense glower that, no doubt, had him taken aback and a little frightened. Penn turned back toward Sharpner and nodded, picking up his bag and moving towards the front of the class.

Videl watched Sharpner, mildly awed. He could tell when she was angry. Maybe it was the result of years spent on the losing end of those anger signals. Sharpner and she had known each other for a long time – longer than she had known Erasa. He caught her looking, giving the raven-haired teen a click of the tongue with a cheesy smile and wink of an eye. In return, she looked away and rolled her eyes.

It wasn't that he was ugly – quite the opposite, in fact. Other students (mainly female, but there were certain exceptions) found him attractive, and even Videl could admit that he had features pleasing to the eye. Even so, she never thought of him in a romantic or sexual way. No clue as to why. Erasa would probably just say that Sharpner wasn't her "type." Videl felt satisfied with her friend's simple answer; if she were to have a "type," she was sure Sharpner wasn't it.

Once more, she turned towards Gohan. He seemed to be a person who avoided confrontation, she assumed based on his current state of apparent indifference. If it were her father being insulted to her face…Or her mother…Videl would have decked Penn where he stood. There were some things that Videl couldn't stand, and disrespecting the dead was one of them. Why didn't Gohan fight? Did he let Penn say what he wanted because he was weak? Weaker than Penn? Was that possible? Maybe Gohan was just didn't want to get into a fight on his first day – normal teenagers were like that.

And Videl Satan would be the first to admit that she wasn't normal.

'_He must know how to fight, right?' _she asked herself. He once expressed being a fan of martial arts. It made more sense now, considering his father. Even if Son Goku's main strengths lay in his ability to fool opponents with fancy tricks, the man still had to learn the basics in how to move, condition the body, how to punch and kick…Surely some of that must have been passed to his son? Or maybe not.

In any case, dwelling on the matter was beginning to weigh on her. She had to at least apologize to Gohan. It seemed like the right thing to do.

Erasa stood, sidling her way past Gohan and stepped down the window aisle, grabbing her mobile phone from her purse. Videl saw it as an opportunity to personally apologize. She scooted into Erasa's seat, sitting herself directly next to the dark-haired teen. He turned towards her slowly, his eyes carefully studying her own.

He was silent. And it was so hard to get a read on what he was feeling. Son Gohan was a guarded individual. She wasn't entirely sure if it was because of her and what she said, or if he was just naturally this way. She hadn't known him long enough to make that kind of judgment. The silence was killing her.

"Hey," she said in a tone harsher than what she wanted. _'Damn,' _she thought. _'Rudeness is such a great way to start an apology, Videl.'_

* * *

><p>"Um…"<p>

Gohan closed his notebook, gazing upon Videl's face with caution. Why had she come here? To talk? He wasn't entirely sure how to feel about that. He already spoke with the young Miss Satan on at least three separate occasions in the past – at the Satan City Tourney, at Celestial Station, and just an hour ago. Not one of those ended all that well for him (except for, perhaps, their first meeting?). Something told him that this one would be no different.

"Hello," he said in response to her 'Hey.' She was silent again. The boy was tempted to glance at his watch, but he knew that doing so would be rude in the middle of conversation…even if said conversation had not yet started and was already going nowhere. Still, he figured it wouldn't hurt to say something. "…Videl, the next class is going to start soon…I think –"

"I'm sorry," she stated, cutting him off. Her brow was furrowed, her face was hardened…She was entirely serious. When he didn't say anything in response, she took a deep breath. That seemed to soften her features a little bit. She became more…natural, if Gohan had to say.

"I didn't know…about your dad, I mean."

'_Oh,'_ he thought, blinking. The surprise seemed to push his eyebrows up a few millimeters. _'That's what it was.'_

"Okay," she said with a sigh, "I'm not the best at this, so just…I feel bad about bringing the whole thing up. Dredging up old memories. Let's just leave it at that, alright?"

A part of Gohan felt like she had an understanding of what he was feeling, but she wasn't going to share it. And he knew that it wasn't his place to pry. She apologized, and that had to be enough. He wasn't going to hold any sort of grudge against her; that much was certain. Still, something inside him felt guilty for accepting the apology. _'I mean, she didn't really say anything about Dad, right? She only asked a couple of questions…'_

But he could tell that she was feeling guilty herself.

"Don't worry about it, Videl," he answered, looking directly into her blue eyes. "You didn't mean for things to go…the way they did." The corners of Gohan's lips pulled into a soft grin. "I'll be fine," he added, waiting for her response.

"I just wanted you to know," she stated. "I'm not the kind of person who judges based on who your parents are, or whatever. I think if you'll get that if you keep hanging out with me. Us. Me, Sharpner, Erasa." Her face had the slightest hint of pink.

"Okay." Still smiling, he turned around and opened up his notebook, waiting patiently for the next class to begin.

He would have certainly liked to believe her. And a part of him wished he could say the same thing – to not judge someone because of his or her parents. But it was hard to dissociate the girl from Satan. Or was he just being unfair to her? He knew of the evils the first Demon King Piccolo committed, but he didn't hate his mentor for being that Demon King's son. And he fought with his life on the line against Vegeta, a man who once threatened to slaughter every living thing on the planet, but he never held that against Trunks. In fact, Trunks was as much a brother to Gohan as Goten, despite the young Brief's father. He even found an odd respect (and, sometimes, _sympathy_) for the Saiyan Prince as well.

The difference between those two and Videl was that he fought at Piccolo and Vegeta's side in battles that could have cost them their lives at any moment. He came to know both of them, to trust them with his life, and he was one of the first to suspect that, perhaps, they weren't as bad as everyone initially believed. He knew he couldn't ever literally trust his life with people like Videl or Mr. Satan; they were both so weak that it wouldn't be right…but could he ever like them?

His father wouldn't have thought a thing about the situation. He would just brush all the bad feelings away with his goofy grin. Piccolo probably wouldn't care much either, if at all. He would simply shrug it off with a grunt. But Gohan wasn't like either of his teachers. What Mr. Satan said affected Gohan. The fact that Satan's daughter sat there and apologized to him…The boy couldn't deny that his ego might have flared up. Gohan scratched the back of his head absentmindedly. On some level, it felt good to have that apology. As if the Satan Family owed it to him.

_Satan's daughter._ He had to wonder if that was all she would ever be to him.

Gohan stole a quick glance to his right. Videl had already shifted back to her original seat. Seeing Erasa walking back up the window aisle, he scooted his chair in, leaving the blonde ample room to return to her desk. There were whispers throughout the classroom. His acute senses couldn't help but pick up what people were saying.

He tried his best to focus on his notebook.

* * *

><p><em>Mt. Paozu. Son Family Home.<em>

Dinner. It was definitely one of Gohan's favorite times of the day. Every evening, he'd be there with his family – laughing, eating, whatever. The setting was comfortable. Intimate. He loved sitting at the Son Family's modestly sized table.

"Gohan?"

He looked up from his plate. His mother sat across from him expectantly.

"You barely touched your food," she pointed out. Gohan glanced down at his plate once more, only having just realized that his mother was right. Had he been staring at the dish so absently the entire time? He brought a little to his mouth to set his and his mother's respective mind at ease.

"Why don't you tell us about your first day of school?" she suggested. "Did you like your classes? Were they up to your level of studying?" She paused. "Did you make any friends?"

"Um…" Gohan scratched the back of his head. "School was fine, Mom." He took another bite of his food. "Great, actually. I, uh, you know, worked hard. And the teachers were really nice and helpful. Nothing all that exciting happened, though."

She studied him for a moment. Gohan forced a smile, trying to let his mother know that she did not need to worry. But even he would have been suspicious of himself in her shoes. The half-Saiyan teen was so excited to be attending high school, and here he was talking about his first day as if it were just another boring day of the week.

"That's…good to hear, Gohan. I'm glad you're enjoying yourself."

He could tell that something was off about the evening's dinner. It wasn't the same as other nights' dinners. Barriers were being brought up between them. Gohan was the one putting them up, and he didn't know how to take them down. He swallowed. _'What was that old saying? The truth will set you free?'_

"Mr. Satan's daughter attends the school," he stated. Gohan chuckled to himself when his mother and younger brother both seemed to freeze for a second. "She's in my class, actually."

"Hey!" Goten exclaimed. "Isn't Mr. Satan that funny man from the commercials?"

Chi-Chi snorted a little as she laughed, covering her mouth and nose with her hand in a vain attempt to hide it. "Goten and I took the Nimbus over to Bulma's while you were at school," she explained. "Bulma and I caught a little bit of that man's new commercial for his workout videos while the kids were watching television."

'_Ah,'_ thought Gohan with a knowing smile. He had seen that one a few days ago – the last time he took Goten to the Brief Family Home for the usual play-date with Trunks.

_Body Like A Champ Vol. 4_. The commercial begins with an explosion, followed by several shots of Hercule punching or kicking some actors and knocking them away with minimal effort. The next shot involved one of the actors throwing punches rhythmically at Mr. Satan's chest as the Champ simply deflected them with synchronously rhythmic flexing of his pectoral muscles. Finally, Hercule finishes the scene by shouting, _"Satan Miracle Punch!" _and sending the final actor out of the shot with a single blow. He closes the commercial saying, _"If you want to fight like a champ, you're going to need a Body Like A Champ! Order my very own, personal workout videos while I coach you on how to be as big and strong as me!"_

Yamcha once said that he would never be caught dead working with Mr. Satan, no matter the pay. Gohan could see why.

"It's hard to believe he has a daughter. I feel bad for her," Chi-Chi said with a grin. She sighed. After a moment, her brow lowered and she looked at the eldest Son boy very seriously. "Wait. She didn't try to cause any trouble with you, right?"

"No!" Gohan insisted. "Not at all!" He paused to take another bite of his food. _'That was the truth, wasn't it?' _he asked himself. _'She didn't mean to cause any trouble.'_

"Good," said Chi-Chi. "That man has certainly earned his fair share of contempt from me, Gohan. I'd hate for his daughter to be on the receiving end of that, too."

"That's…a little unfair, don't you think?" he asked. She shrugged. It was a similar thought to the one he had earlier that day.

"I'm only human, Gohan. You and your brother are so much like your father that way. Always willing to forgive and forget no matter what. I, on the other hand, like to hear an apology before I can do that."

He wasn't sure how to feel about hearing that. On the one hand, it meant that he was not the kind of person his father was, no matter how much he'd like to be. On the other hand, feeling the way he did, wanting to hear an apology, only meant he was normal. Human. Like his mother. That wasn't all that bad, was it?

* * *

><p><em>Satan City. Satan Mansion.<em>

The dining hall. It was another one of those rooms Videl hated. So vast and disconnected…She often wondered why her small family of two needed one. Her father was often too busy promoting his business and martial arts to hold many social events. Many evenings often ended with her alone in that very room, sitting at the end of an impossibly long table. But Videl was never the type to feel bad for herself.

'_If anything, the food is always delicious,'_ she thought with an amused smirk.

This evening, however, was different from most. Videl glanced up, seeing her father sit directly across from her. He seemed to be enjoying the food as well. Sitting at dinner with him felt good. It made her feel normal. The only problem she had was the general atmosphere the dining hall exuded. They sat alone at a table designed for fifty people with only each other and a couple of house servants for company. Videl resumed eating.

"Aren't you going to tell me about your day, sweet pea?" her father asked. Actual dinner conversation was also something out of the norm.

"Well…" Videl paused to think. What could she say to Hercule, really? The son of the previous World Champion sits a chair away from her in class? And said previous champion had actually passed away years before the 24th WMAT? _'Two problems with that,' _she noted. _'Problem one: don't mention boys around Daddy. Problem two: don't mention the previous champion around Daddy.'_

"Anything interesting happen today?"

"I was kidnapped and held for ransom?" she answered with a casual shrug. Her father immediately dropped his fork, letting it clatter on the floor. Expertly, one of the house servants picked the now unusable utensil up and replaced it with a new one.

"Wh-what?!" he exclaimed, inadvertently swallowing a mouthful of food. He pounded his chest, coughing, hacking, and spluttering. When his throat was cleared, he asked, "What do you mean?!"

"Oh, don't worry," she assured, teasing smirk forming on her face. "I was rescued. By a Mister Tall, Dark, and Mysterious."

"Videl!" Hercule shouted. "What are you talking about?! Are you seeing a boy?! And you let him rescue you?!"

"Hey, Dad, relax."

"I should be the only one rescuing my precious baby! Are you hurt? Oh, I hate this!"

Her little game was becoming a little overbearing. She only wanted to mess with her father a little. It was rare that she got to pull one over on the Man Who Saved the World. _'And, suddenly, I'm reminded why I don't do this more often.'_

"Daddy, I'm fine. The bad guys were taken care of, the other hostages are all okay –"

"Hostages?!"

Videl stopped, shooting her father an incredulous look. "You haven't heard about what happened at Celestial Station this morning?"

"Oh," he said, "Alright. So everything is okay?" She nodded. "And, well, you remember what we talked about when I un-grounded you, right? Our agreement about boys?"

"You won't run around freaking out over random guys and telling them that they need to beat you in a fight in order to date me, and I won't go around dating until you think that I'm ready." As far as she was concerned, it was the best possible deal. Her father would no longer actively try and meddle in her personal life, and she let her father have a say in her romantic life. Besides, it wasn't like she even wanted to date anyone anytime soon. Videl had nothing to lose.

"Right…So, anything else happen today?"

"There's a new student at school," Videl answered. That would have been a neutral enough place to start, right? "Apparently some kind of genius or something. Perfect scores on all his entrance exams."

"Huh."

"I might have ruined his chances at being popular at school," she said without thinking. Hercule raised an eyebrow upon hearing the word _'his,'_ but kept his mouth shut. "He seemed like an okay person. I just kinda…made him talk about something that made people not like him, I guess? I mean, it's not like he can help who his father is…People shouldn't just judge you because of your family, right?"

There were whispers throughout the day. She could hear them from her seat, when she walked through the halls, when she was sitting with her friends at lunch. People were talking about Gohan, and not a whole lot of nice things were said.

"_Hey, did you hear about the new kid?"_

"_I heard about his father, the cheater…"_

"…_new kid __probably cheated on his entrance exams. I wouldn't be surprised…"_

"He was bothered by it. I know I'd be," she admitted, twirling the food around in her plate. "But he didn't say anything. Just kind of shut himself off from the rest of the world. And he wasn't mad at me about it at all."

"Well, this boy should know better than to be mad at the daughter of the one and only Hercule for anything!" Hercule boasted proudly. Videl rolled her eyes. "But, uh, who's this kid's father anyway? Why'd the other kids make such a big deal about it?"

"No one important," replied Videl, hoping her father would move on. If he knew that the new student was Son Goku's eldest…_'I'm sure _that_ will go perfectly well…' _She sighed. "I just think that this could end up with him being bullied, you know? And I guess I'm probably feeling responsible because I'm the one who brought it up…"

"Videl," started Hercule, grasping her small hands. "You shouldn't feel bad about wanting the truth to be out there!" Videl stared at her father. "You care about that kind of stuff, right? Aren't you always telling me how you hate liars?"

"Having secrets and being a liar…I think those are two very different things, Daddy," she said with a small smile. "Everyone keeps secrets, right?"

"Except for you n' me, of course!"

She chuckled. "Right, Daddy. No secrets between us."

"And, if you ask me, I think that kid just needs to grow a backbone. Stick up for himself." Hercule rubbed his chin thoughtfully before snapping his fingers, no doubt with a grand idea in mind. "Why don't you bring him over to one of the gyms? Have one of the guys teach him a bit on how to stand up like a man? You wouldn't worry about this kid so much after that, right?"

The irony. _'A former World Champion's son needing to learn the basics?' _she asked herself silently, almost laughing. _'Whether Son Goku was a cheater or not, it just doesn't seem all that necessary.' _

"I don't know," she said with a chuckle.

"Oh, come on! It'll be completely free of charge! He'll have a blast, and you don't have to go thinking about him all the time! So it's a win for everyone!"

"Alright," she sighed, smiling. Her father leaned back in his chair, satisfied. It was easy for her to see her father's motivations; he wanted to get her mind off of the new boy at school. At the very least, he wasn't outright telling her what to do. It was amusing to see him try and fool her the way he was doing. Unfortunately for him, not a lot gets by Videl Satan. Still, it wouldn't hurt to play along. "I'll talk to him about it."

* * *

><p><strong>The Writer's Block:<strong>

_Something that truly excited me this week: __**Peter Parker's official return to the Spider-Man mantle.**__ For those of you who don't follow what's happening in American comic books, you probably won't understand how this could be important to the story. Simply put, I like to throw in some Parker the way I characterize Gohan. It seems especially apropos when considering Part Two is focused on Gohan's career as a vigilante._

_Not a whole lot to say this time around. Thanks for being awesome. Reading, reviewing. Favoriting, following. Whatever it is you've done or are about to do on fanfiction today, just know that you people rock. Oh, and the story also has __**over 30,000 hits since publication!**_

_~smashbangfusion_


	14. Defense, Diversity, and Turtles

**Demon Hunt: Chapter 14 – Defense, Diversity, and Turtles**

_August 21__st__, Age 773. Satan City. _

'_All right, so…'_

Gohan shifted his body in a quick and concise movement, easily dodging the power punch thrown his way. He glanced over to the outside of the fighting ring, his classmates standing there to see the spectacle. There was Erasa, supportively cheering him on; Sharpner, crossing his arms and wearing an amused smirk; and Videl, simply watching with an intense and studious gaze.

'_This is not how I imagined my first weekend outing with friends.'_

Could he even consider them friends? Both he and they were on friendly terms, but he had barely been to school for a week. Yes, Erasa seemed to always be in a kind mood, and he enjoyed speaking with her. Sharpner, too, was not a particularly off-putting character (though Gohan had his own reservations over any relationship more than friendly acquaintances). And Videl…was still an unknown. In the past week she had shown that she was pushy and headstrong, but he felt that there was somehow more to her than that.

A kick, this time, flew in from his left. With minimal effort, Gohan leaned to his right and allowed the leg to simply sweep over his head without meeting its intended target. All he had to do was stay in the ring and demonstrate Turtle School Martial Arts to Videl and Sharpner – the first fighting style his father ever learned (first from Grandpa Gohan, then from Master Roshi). Gohan only hoped he wouldn't draw too much attention to himself.

Of course, he had to wonder how he ended up agreeing to this in the first place.

* * *

><p><em>August 17<em>_th__. Orange Star High School._

_His second day of school started off better than the first ended; people stopped whispering about him as he walked by – the lone perk of literally being yesterday's news. But even with the buzz about him making its uneventful and much welcomed death, his father's alleged shady legacy nonetheless made its impact on his school life._

_He tried to sit away from Videl's circle before class began. Maybe make some new friends. The people in class early weren't at all interested in talking – at least not to Gohan._

"_Hello," he would greet in the most approachable tone he could manage. _

_The usual response was a weak "Hi," or "Morning," before the other student returned to whatever made him or her seem too occupied to talk._

_Gohan ultimately resigned to sitting by the window as he had done on his first day. If nothing else, Videl already told him that he was welcome to spend his days at school with her circle. It was a nice gesture of amiability from Satan's daughter. His trust in her offer and willingness to be on friendly terms with someone so closely related to Mr. Satan was later solidified when Videl Satan turned out to be the first person to talk to Gohan that morning._

"_Good morning, Gohan," she greeted with a casually raised hand._

_Gohan responded with a cheery smile and a friendly wave. "Good morning," he said._

"_So I see you're sticking with the uniform," she teased, placing her knuckles on her hips as she looked him up and down. It seemed as though she were pretending the events of yesterday didn't happen, and Gohan was grateful. He allowed himself a chuckle at her little joke. _

"_Well, no worries," she continued as she took her seat. "It's not like anyone else here dresses in anything different from their own little personal style anyway."_

"_Really?"_

"_Oh, yeah," said a dramatically deeper voice – Sharpner. He joined the conversation as he slid into his own chair. "In fact, I think I saw those guys wearing the same exact thing they wore yesterday." With a grin, he jerked his thumb to a small group on the other side of the classroom. _

"_And all of last year," Erasa chimed in with a giggle, coming up from behind Gohan. "And the year before that."_

"_Well, at least Brains over here can just use the uniform as an excuse," Sharpner joked, gesturing towards Gohan._

_Gohan pointed to himself, puzzled look on his face. "Brains?" he asked. "Is that supposed to be a nickname?"_

"_Sharp, you really think of the worst nicknames, don't you?" asked Videl, chuckling._

* * *

><p><em>August 21<em>_st__. Outside the fighting ring._

Videl Satan never took any sort of "detective" classes. She didn't have a degree, a license, or even some lame commemorative certificate that qualified her as an expert in reading people. But she studied martial arts her entire life. Or _most_ of her life, rather. In her childhood, martial arts training came day and night. She knew how to throw a proper punch before most children knew their first word. As she got older, training became less frequent – particularly during her preteen years. One disaster of a 14th birthday party later and she was back to spending evenings with training weights in her hands rather than the television remote control or a telephone.

In short, she had always considered herself well-versed in human kinetics (and some non-human kinetics after learning of the diverse range of competitors in non-Wave and Rocks-sponsored tournaments). She can guess whether a person was nervous, whether someone was telling her the truth, or (most importantly) whether her opponent will throw a fist at her…and she'd usually be right. People told her that she had a natural gift – one sometimes (and often to her disgruntlement) attributed to her father.

"Come on, Brains! Stop dodging like a sissy and throw a punch already!"

'_Someone is getting impatient,' _commented Videl in silence, turning her head towards Sharpner. She took note of his stance – his legs at shoulder-width apart, his arms folded over his chest (but not tensed at all), and his mouth curled into his usual, confident and often mischievous grin. _'Nope; not impatient. He's just trying to be funny is all.'_

Still, Sharpner would be right to feel impatient. She had expected to see a fight – one where she could take note of what she thought could be a useful fighting style to diversify her own moveset. Sure, Gohan had done well not to be hit so far, but was this really the fighting style of his father? How could he win a fight if he can't even throw a punch – not even out of some self-preservation instinct?

When Gohan climbed into the ring a minute ago, she asked him to demonstrate the Turtle School's fighting stance. The spiky-haired youth scratched the back of his head (as, she noted, he was prone to do), and raised his arms out to his sides and put his left foot forward. It looked silly – as if he were preparing some kind of clumsy bull rush or headbutt. Sharpner burst out in laughter. Erasa, uninterested in fighting and thus having no idea that Gohan was doing wrong, simply looked in awe.

Videl felt upset and impatient when she saw his lame attempt at a fighting stance. If he had no idea how to take a proper stance, he had no business being in a fight! She thought that he was either lying about knowing how to fight, or he was making a mockery of martial arts.

After a second, Gohan returned to a more relaxed position, scratching the back of his head and laughing to himself.

"_The Turtle Style doesn't have a specific stance," he explained. "You just fight the way you fight."_

A ridiculous notion, Videl had thought. _'A proper stance is one of the key foundations to practicing martial arts! How does he expect to defend himself when he is practically open on all sides?'_

She thought back on what she had seen so far in the past minute. He looked completely vulnerable. Unless it was to avoid an attack, Gohan barely moved an inch. And when Gohan _did _avoid an attack, he couldn't have moved _more than an inch _and _still _avoided contact. Videl had to groan at herself for not realizing it sooner.

Yes, in a competition, the fighting style would be considered boring for those standing in the audience. But from the perspective of a martial artist, the facing the Turtle Style would both be incredibly frustrating and humbling. The sheer level of skill and fighting instinct it would take to dodge punches the way Gohan was doing…she was in awe thinking about it. Sure, Gohan's practice partner wasn't the most skilled, but he was certainly no pushover. Videl had to wonder if Gohan was giving it everything he had, or if he was hiding more beneath his lean appearance. The fighter inside her wanted to test this new rival's limits.

'_So this is the style of Son Goku…' _she thought to herself.

* * *

><p><em>August 20<em>_th__. Orange Star High School._

_It's been another day and Videl had not yet found the chance to offer him the free visit to the Satan Gym. It was and continued to be difficult to find an appropriate situation. He wasn't the easiest of people to approach during class time, always so focused on the lecture or burying himself in his notes._

'And just giving him the gift would feel so awkward if it didn't come up organically, right?' _she thought, scratching in doodles of old cartoon characters into the margins of her notebook. A part of her had to laugh at herself. _'Videl Satan could beat down a whole gang of thugs in a dark alley, and she feels weird about giving a boy a gift – no matter how intangible or completely impersonal. It's a damn gym trial.'

_Sharpner was the one who asked about Gohan's physical ability. "You look a bit on the scrawny side, don't you, Gohan?" he suggested during one of their breaks. "Are you sure you're a martial artist's son?"_

_Erasa, of course, commented that not every guy had to be a hulking mass to be considered 'manly.'_

"_Gohan might not be able to lift as much weight as you, Sharpner, but I bet he has a lot of other strengths!" she claimed. The petite blonde turned to Videl in an effort to pull her on her side. "Videl here is living proof that you don't need to have a whole lot of muscle to be good at fighting."_

"_Well, come on!" Sharpner exclaimed, half laughing. "Videl is the daughter of the strongest man on Earth! Of course she'd hit hard in a fight!"_

"_Hey, hey," Gohan interjected, waving his hands in a pacifying manner. With a smile, he said, "Genetics isn't all there is to being a good martial artist. It takes a lot of work, too, right?"_

'What a perfect opportunity,'_ thought Videl. "Would you call yourself a decent martial artist?" she asked._

"_Oh, I don't know about 'decent'…" he replied, scratching the back of his head with a little grin._

"_See, Erasa? Gohan admits that he's not even a decent fighter," said Sharpner. He decisively slammed his open palm onto the table, saying, "Gohan, you've got to start some serious exercise – not just the stuff going on in the school gym."_

"_Yeah," Videl agreed, curious to see what kind of potential in fighting the new boy possessed. Plus, bringing up her father's little 'free-gym day' to Gohan couldn't have been met with a more natural situation. "Besides – my dad said that, since you're new in town and all, it would do you good to have a free session or two at the Satan Gym. Not just a branch gym, either. The main one."_

"_Oh, that's pretty cool!" exclaimed Erasa._

_Gohan stifled a weak laugh – one of embarrassment, Videl suspected. "Sorry," he said, again scratching the back of his head. "I get enough exercise playing with my little brother at home. I don't think I could handle a day at the gym."_

"_Gohan, that's just wasteful," Sharpner responded, shaking his head. "It'd be good to have a few tricks up your sleeve once in a while. Satan City isn't exactly the safest place, even with our own little crimefighter here."_

_Videl rolled her eyes. _'You had to say 'little,' didn't you?'

"_Sharpner has a point, Gohan," Erasa commented. "A lot of people learn something here in Satan City. Even some of the kindest people know a good technique or two thanks to Videl's dad and the mayor."_

'Ah, yes,' _Videl thought. 'Mr. Satan's Self-Defense Initiative. _That was one of Rude's projects, I think.'

_The premise was simple; any office in Satan City with a large number of employees is required to hold a mandatory self-defense class once a year. Officially, any certified martial arts instructor would do, but most companies only want someone from the Satan School. The bigger corporations are often fighting over which group gets Hercule Satan himself to lead the session. Not only did the act promote business for the Satan Gym franchise, but it also seemed to make citizens happier._

"_Yeah, but, guys," Gohan pleaded, hoping they would change the subject soon, "I think I know enough to defend myself without too much trouble."_

"_Really? Well, now you _have _to come with us to the gym. Like, _this _weekend," Sharpner insisted, crossing his arms over his chest and smirking – the usual gesture for his competitive side revealing itself, Videl noted. "I want to see what you can do, Brains."_

"_Brains, huh?" asked Erasa, her tone hinting at playful sarcasm. "You're really trying that one again?" She turned to Gohan. "He's right, though – about it being a waste if you don't go. It could be fun! It'll be the first weekend outing of the school year!"_

'And just like that, Gohan is cornered…' _Videl thought, mentally clenching her fist in victory. In her few days of knowing the boy, Videl suspected he was the type weak to peer pressure. He was always too kind, too eager to please._

_It was clear to her how uncomfortable Gohan was with saying 'no' to people._

* * *

><p><em>August 21<em>_st__. Satan Gym._

'_So my goal here today is…'_

Gohan shifted his body back, avoiding the swinging hook of his opponent by a mere centimeter. He could tell that the fighter was becoming simultaneously tired and frustrated. Nothing was connecting, and so punches gradually became more wild and uncontrolled as the fight wore on. In another minute, he wouldn't be surprised if the poor young man fell to his own exhaustion. Fortunately, there were only another twenty seconds left in the practice match.

'_My goal here today is…' _he continued silently, waiting for the next attack. _'…don't hurt anyone, and don't stand out.'_

The half-Saiyan took slow breaths, inhaling the light, cool air of the well-conditioned gym. Those who trained in such a place must be spoiled, he thought, recalling his days training in the Hyperbolic Time Chamber with his father. It took him days just to stand, weeks to walk, run, jump, fight. He had to fight through blizzards and floods of fire in equal measure.

In this gym, it was as if the air was always refreshing; no matter the condition of the fighter. Gohan found it strange, then, that anyone could even think to become stronger in such a place. Even with the air conditioning, his opponent was damp from head to toe with sweat. Dark stains colored his athletic top. He had to constantly wipe or blink away the sweat creeping into his eyes from his forehead. He could barely hold his arms up for more than the second it took to throw a punch.

In contrast, Gohan looked as fresh and dry as he had when he came into the ring. The dark-haired youth was thankful that the others weren't so close that they could see his lack of sweat, and he kept a close eye on the towel in his designated corner for when the match finished so that he could wipe away the non-existent moisture on his face to avoid arousing any suspicion.

Another wild assault was coming; he could sense it in his opponent. Gohan could see the varying tensing and relaxing of muscles in the other fighter's body, easily reading where each punch, kick, or attempted grapple was going.

'_Low, sweeping kick to my right ankle…'_

Gohan lifted his foot in response, allowing his opponent's foot to swing under him.

'_Hard left straight to my head…'_

He gently, but swiftly brought his right hand up to deflect the incoming blow so that it passed by his ear without so much as grazing him.

'_Low kick to my left shin…'_

Again, he raised the targeted foot up to knee-level, avoiding another attack by a hair's width.

'_Right hooking punch to my head…'_

The half-Saiyan leaned back at the last second, once more placing himself just out of the other fighter's reach. Gohan was leagues ahead of anything the gym could offer – that much was obvious to him. However, he still felt some enjoyment in the match. Testing his skill as he left himself handicapped, how well he could read the opponent, using even the weakest flare of spirit energy to predict the next attack before it came – it was something he never took the time to enjoy while training with his father or with Piccolo. There was a certain thrill to seeing how many different ways one could train the senses, even against an opponent far less powerful than he.

The opponent wouldn't move from his rooted position, his feet planted where he stood, his legs hardened just to support the weight of his body so he wouldn't fall on the mat. Gohan didn't want to move either; to continue the fight would be pointless. The match ended in a few seconds anyway, so why bother?

The ringing of the digital clock pulled both of them out of the moment. The other fighter dropped to his bottom, someone throwing him a towel with which to clean himself. Gohan quickly jogged to his corner, grabbing his own towel and pressing it against his face. Before turning back toward his friends, he draped the towel over his head, allowing it to lazily cover part of his face.

"Well, um…" he began, facing them. He let out an almost exaggerated sigh, as if to further convince others of his faux-fatigue. "That's the Turtle Style…"

He scratched the back of his head, nervously waiting for their response. Sharpner was the first to say anything.

"I don't get it, Brains. All you did was dodge and deflect. How can that be considered fighting at all?"

"I…uh…I guess it's kind of hard to explain…" Gohan stepped out of the mat and took a seat near his friends. It was fortunate that this training room was mostly private – a separate section from the rest of the gym. Sharpner's suggestion. He didn't want Gohan to embarrass himself in front of all the major martial artists in the city. At the very least, it ensured Gohan didn't make a spectacle of himself.

"The Turtle School doesn't have a long list of special techniques. There are a few, but knowing techniques were never as important as knowing the training philosophy. The style is about how you train your body and fighting instincts to the very limit and beyond, making you the ultimate defensive fighter."

He let what he said sink in for a minute before laughing to himself and scratching the back of his head.

"Not that I claim to be the ultimate defensive fighter or anything like that…" Gohan amended with a sheepish grin.

"Huh. So that's why it's called the Turtle Style, huh?" asked Videl, turning Gohan's attention to her. "The fighter can seem like he's not moving or just look weak, but he has a strong defense to rely on at all times…no matter how silly his stance is."

Instantly, Gohan was reminded of his "joke" stance earlier. Temperature in his face began to rise, he felt, with the slightest pink adding more color to his peach complexion. Gohan dragged the towel from his head to his face, hiding his moment of embarrassment behind it as he pretended to wipe more sweat away. _'Well, I mean…that's just the stance I heard Dad used back when he was a kid…' _he thought, lightly scratching his cheek.

"Uh, yeah," he replied to Videl's observation. _'And training basically guarantees that your body is hard and resilient enough to take a hit, too.'_

"Alright, great. How do you expect to win a fight if you don't use a lot of fighting techniques?" asked Sharpner, crossing his arms over his chest yet again. He, Erasa, and Videl all took their own seats around Gohan, making for easier conversation.

"Throwing a punch or a kick is easy," he explained. "I had a lot of opportunities to hit my practice partner earlier. Defending yourself isn't as simple, but your opponent can't win if he can't even touch you. And if the other guy can't win, you do, right?"

Sharpner sighed. "Well, can't say I'm not disappointed. Thought your fight would be a little more exciting." He smirked. "Or at least a little funny."

"Oh, don't listen to him, Gohan!" Erasa said, slapping Sharpner lightly on his arm. "He's just being a jerk because he doesn't think he can win against you now."

"Hey, hey, I can take Brains in a fight any day!" the blond exclaimed, slightly indignant. "How about it? Your impenetrable style against my invincible style?" he asked, turning to Gohan. His grin grew a little mischievous as he continued, "A little Turtle on Satan action? Huh?"

Gohan, confused, tilted his head to his side. "Uh…no thanks, Sharpner…" The dark-haired youth scratched the back of his head as he leaned over his knees. "I'm pretty tired…And I've got to fly home at the end of the day, too."

"Right, in your jet-plane. You should take us on a ride one day!" suggested Erasa before standing up. "Like, I don't know about you three, but I've had enough of this gym for the day. Why don't we go get something to eat before Gohan has to go back home?"

"Sounds good. I'll meet up with you guys when I'm done changing," Gohan said as he pulled his backpack from underneath the bench and slung it over his shoulder. He watched as the others headed out of the private training room, just about ready to strip out of his sweatpants and white-tee when Videl turned around.

"Hey, Gohan," she started, walking back towards the half-Saiyan. "That was your father's fighting style, wasn't it?"

"Y-yeah…" Gohan answered, letting go of the shirt that he was about to remove. He wasn't so careless as to strip himself down in front of a girl he had just met. "It's one of the three main disciplines of martial arts my dad studied during his life."

'_And after,' _he added mentally.

"Huh. It's like you said, then. Diversity."

'_Diversity?' _he asked himself. She was talking about the conversation about martial arts from the first day they met. "Right. Martial arts should be about diversity. There's no one style that's the greatest."

"Then I'd like to learn from you."

"Wait, what?"

"Teach me the Turtle Style. And other styles that your dad taught you." She brought her fists to her hips, taking another step towards Gohan. "You do know other styles, don't you?"

"Yeah, but –" Gohan took a step back, feeling awfully uncomfortable. "I can't. I-I can't teach you."

Her eyes seemed to grow only more intense as her brow lowered slightly. After a second, one eyebrow rose inquisitively. "Well why not?"

'_Because it'll reveal a little too much about my life? And maybe too much about yours?'_

"I don't want you to think that I'm…weird."

'_Because, really, how normal is it that my best friend is a green man who lives in a floating palace? Or that I know people who've come back from the dead? Or that I saved the world when I was ten years old and your father took credit for it?'_

Her brow lowered once again, and he mouth hung open slightly, giving Videl the impression of someone both upset and confused. She scoffed, "It's a bit late for that, Gohan." Videl turned around, heading back out of the private training room. "I get it; you don't want to teach me. Hurry up so we can get some food, alright?"

"Uh…yeah, alright."

"And, Gohan?" She turned to face him. "I didn't say this earlier, but…Good fight."

* * *

><p><strong>The Writer's BACK!<strong>

_Hey, hey! You see what I did there? You know? With the "Writer's Block" title? Kudos to you. Anyway, I'm sorry that getting back into writing _Demon Hunt_ took a little longer than expected. So I took my exams, started summer break, and I took a look at my notes and at once had a kind of vague picture of where I left off. Even so, I started typing and typing and had no idea what I was doing. I was definitely afraid that I couldn't write any good chapters (especially because I was starting off cold after such a long break), so I took another week or so to reread the story, notes for the future, track the dates presented in the chapters, and try to construct a decently paced chapter with a mix of martial arts and DBZ universe expansion that I love so much. _

_There's a lot of flashback, framing what's happening in the present (the 21__st__) around some of the more important parts of Gohan's first week of school after his first day (17__th__ and 20__th__). My goal was to move the story along without lingering on some of the more trivial and pointless things (like which classes Gohan is taking, how he's doing in those classes, teachers yelling at Gohan for talking to his friends during class…You've all seen those sort of high-school fics before, and I wouldn't want you to have to go through that here), but still show the budding friendship of these four characters and the growing interest (though not necessarily romantic interest) between Gohan and Videl._

_What I wanted was for the events of the 17__th__ (Gohan's second day of school) to sort of "solidify" that these four are or will be really good friends, especially Gohan and Videl. I didn't think there needed to be a whole day's worth of descriptions how Gohan and Videl relate to one another over this one single day (after all, how close can you get to someone in a single day during high school?), so I left it all up to that one morning._

_I really hope that this chapter lives up to you readers' expectations of my work. If not, don't worry; _Demon Hunt _is returning to its regular, weekend update schedule! In addition, I will be starting a second project this summer (with an, as of yet, undetermined schedule) that will launch next week! In other good news, I recently got my semester grades back and it's Bs across the board! I was sure I had a C in there somewhere, but _damn _it feels good to be wrong!_

_Also, if you check the front page of DBZ stories and filter them by follower-count, _Demon Hunt _is in the FIRST PAGE! That's like, what? Top 25?! How long have I been gone?! All you readers, reviewers, followers, and favoriters rock so hard that I'm just like, "Whoa. These guys freaking rock so hard."_

_Thanks for your continued support! Please let me know how my first chapter in two months went. I felt weird about getting back into writing, especially since I was coming in cold, but once I warmed up I started to feel really good about my writing.  
><em>

_~smashbangfusion_


	15. Apologies

**Apologies**

So the one-year anniversary of the story came and went, and I figured I owe everyone an explanation for my complete absence and lack of update on the story for the past 7-8 months. I'll give it to you straight; this is the end of _Demon Hunt_.

I certainly didn't mean for it to end like this. It was a project I was very passionate about in the beginning, and updates would come as often as every other day. The problem is that passion for the story led to some pretty terrible narrative ideas in hindsight, and I found myself dissatisfied with the direction the story took.

Maybe that's the thing with fan fiction? When you start out, you throw in as many nifty ideas you can because you think it would up the drama or make the story more interesting, but it ends up taking away the focus of the story. That's exactly how I feel about _Demon Hunt_ – a collection of decent stand-alone chapters with neat ideas that execute poorly when all together.

Even though I am done with _this _story, I don't think I'm really _done_ with trying to make a great Gohan/Videl narrative. I am currently rewriting chapters and refocusing the story and should be ready to have something published soon. Yes, I will continue writing. It won't be _Demon Hunt_, but I think you and I have invested enough into this story to warrant a second chance.

The "spiritual successor" to the story will be titled _Chasing Demons_. Once again, it will focus on Gohan fighting as Demon Jr. and the Dark Fighter while trying to live a normal life with Videl tenaciously investigating and dealing with her limitations as a fighter. Unlike _Demon Hunt_, there won't be any unnecessary drama. Chi-Chi won't be all "sad, worried mother," and Hercule won't be "well-meaning, vicious father." Seriously, I don't know why I put that in the story when it turns out I just dropped it from their characters a chapter later.

Anyway, I just wanted to say that I'm sorry for the long absence when you all deserved to know what was going on. And I want to apologize for closing this story prematurely, but I think it deserves a chance to start over. Thank you for understanding, and I hope you look forward to _Chasing Demons_ and any other work I have in the future!

~smashbangfusion


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